The Dream
by Bex
Summary: Sarah dared to change the story...and now she's trapped in it. UPDATED: CHAPTER 23
1. Part 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

_Disclaimer - The Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien owns Middle Earth and all therein. No breach of copyright is intended by the following fanfiction, and no profit will ever be made from it._   


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
  


**The Dream - Part 1**   
by Bex   


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
  


I slept, and in a dream of Middle Earth, I walked the aspen groves that graced the south-eastern slopes of the hidden Elven stronghold of Imladris. 

I didn't know that at the time, though. I simply wandered the sun-dappled hillside, making my way between the trees in the manner of dreamers everywhere. Possessed of a faint wonder and a vague but unquenchable longing, my passage went unmarked except by the most sensitive among the inhabitants, and I for my part was utterly unaware of them. There, but not completely - I was, as far as I knew, alone. And even to those who had the ability to detect the vaguest of presences, I was but a brief intrusion upon their awareness. 

Still, even the faintest of traces may capture someone's interest. Someone in desperate need of diversion, perhaps? 

I discovered later that Temeril Derlanen had already become well-known for his insatiable curiosity. The prerogative of the very young, some might say. It was true that he was among the youngest in Imladris. 

So perhaps it is not surprising that it was he who was not satisfied to merely note my faint presence as it passed by one day, but rather turned and followed. 

Followed me down the slope, stretching his senses to their limit - and beyond. Too young to know that it had never been done, couldn't be done, wasn't worth doing. He paused behind me, straining to not lose that delicate thread of connection, his realization of my presence. I, yet unaware, halted and squatted slowly and carefully upon the moss-carpeted bank of one of that place's chuckling streams, one of my hands reaching slowly for the running water... 

Excited, impetuous, he reached for me somehow, in a way difficult to explain. Not physically. Perhaps my coming to a stop allowed him to sense me more strongly, and he reacted on impulse, lest he lose me again. I learned of this later - in my dream, I knew only that I suddenly was not alone. 

Even then, I might not have reacted the way I did...the simple shock of realizing I wasn't alone would perhaps not have caused me to react as I did. 

Receiving the impression that something had reached out to seize me _did_. 

In the dream, terror flooded me, and I screamed with all my being, desperate, never even turning around before I fled... 

...back to my own place. I came awake in my bed, still churning with fright and shock. A bad dream it had been; a very bad dream. The worst kind...one of those amorphous, terror-inducing journeys. Worse when you could not recall what precisely had happened, just that overwhelming emotion... 

What I did not know then was that back in Imladris, in a place just as real, but elsewhere...a young elf stood, stunned. Despite the unpleasant shock of my departure, he felt a growing excitement. The burst of aversion with which the 'energy' had fled...confirmed for him beyond a doubt its reality. And, possibly, its sentience. 

Now he knew that he'd definitely found a mystery worth pursuing. 

And pursue it he did. I have to wonder now why I kept returning to that place...when an obsessed elf kept dogging my heels. I can only think that my spirit had already decided it was a special enough place to warrant repeated visits, despite the way he hunted me. 

Though I must admit, after his first few hamfisted attempts to snag me sent me gasping in horror back to my bed, and left him empty-handed, Temeril began to learn subtlety. His confidence grew as I returned and he was able to re-locate me, and he began to fear less that each time was his only chance to discover who or what I was, and why I was only barely detectable. He stopped trying to 'capture' me and contented himself with tracking and spying upon me, trying to get a sense of what I was, and my intentions. 

He told me later that the longer he stalked me...the stronger his sense of me became. In time, I graduated to the faintest 'shadow'. Just a glimmer of 'somethingness', he explained. 

I, in turn do have to admit that I began in turn to sense *him*. At least, I felt unnerved, though no longer 'attacked'. Sometimes when the feeling grew, I would leave...but other times, I suffered the sensation for increasing periods. I would stand, and look about me, suspicious, then travel some small ways, before waking. My dream woodland was quiet, normally peaceful, yet now haunted by a lurking presence. 

It was altogether disturbing. 

But even the most disturbing sensation can gain familiarity with time, become less offensive. And so it was with this. Familiarity eventually bred acceptance. 

The sense of presence in my dreams had now faded to a consistent background 'hum' on my awareness. I again wandered freely, roaming the woodland, somehow (instinctively) staying away from the thickly inhabited areas of Imladris. 

So it was that one day, as I sat cross-legged upon a large boulder that offered a scenic view across one side of the valley, lost as usual in that vague meditative awareness that was my normal dream-state of mind, that something 'tapped' me on the shoulder. As it were. I realized later that there was no such physical 'touch', but at the time I reacted as if there had been. Just one, quick, light 'tap'. I shrieked and promptly pitched face-first forward off the boulder-- 

I woke, heart thumping...and oddly angry. I'd been frightened...but I was angry in a way I hadn't before felt upon awakening. I felt..betrayed. As if the presence and I had made a 'truce', and now it had broken that. 

The next time my dreaming spirit was irresistibly drawn to Middle Earth, and Imladris...I was still angry. 

It also turned out that my anger made me even easier to 'sense'. It was an emotion I'd not expressed before in dreams of that place....and now I seethed with it. 

It drew Temeril to me like an arrow. I began dimly to sense beyond that vague presence, becoming aware of his unique 'feel' of curiosity and cheerfulness. Irritable at his lurking, I began to lash out at him. Just instinctive bursts of anger, really. But oddly, quite...encouraging to him. Every time we interacted, his belief that I was some creature, perhaps a being in the end not too dissimilar to him, grew. 

Impatient youth that he was, he eventually decided to speed up what must have been seemed the agonizingly slow process of discovering what I was. He made an unprecedented leap of elven magical logic in the way that unsupervised youth have been known to do. Much to the chagrin of their elders. 

No matter - the deed was done. A certain magical-based ritual for making ones farewells to the spirits of elves departing for the Halls of Mandos was adapted and performed. 

As I dreamed that night, I found myself in a clearing, overlaid with that sense of snooping presence. As my irritation rose in a manner now as familiar as that presence had become, the barest whisper of a wordless communication came to me. Had it been words, it'd have said: 

_Why are you so angry?_

In that dream-place, my actions were quick, and natural. The lack of words did not bother me; the meaning had been clear. I replied instantly, in kind: 

_You won't leave me alone!!_

A wave of excitement buffeted me. And back, quickly, still excited yet mixed with a combination of chagrin and longing: 

_I want to know you!!_

I let out a wordless shout of exasperation and dropped to my knees on the sward. 

_GO AWAY!_

A plea, dripping with entreaty: _Please?_

_Who are you?!_ I demanded in kind, irritated beyond belief. 

Then: _**WHERE** are you?!_

_HERE! OVER HERE!!_

Shocked by the strength of entreaty, I lurched to my feet, and stood swaying, on the verge of fleeing a dream turning rapidly into nightmare. He felt it. 

_NO! **PLEASE!** OVER HERE!!_

Such was his desperate strength of will that I turned instinctively towards the 'cry', lurched forward. The impression of a hand flung desperately out-- 

My own hand flew out to meet it-- 

--and the sensation of heat bursting around me, fire racing over me, my spirit _screaming_ with utter shock as something grabbed my hand and yanked - 

And phased me forward fully to his level. 

***** 

Despite the disturbance created by the ritual, it took them a short while to realize what that surge of magical energy had meant. A little longer, still, to find us, in that glade where Temeril had chosen to work his magic. Even if he hadn't quite intended it that way, his lure. His trap. 

And when Glorfindel and several others found us both lying as if dead there on the grass - one young elf and one human female - there was nothing to be done but put us on litters and carry us to the Healers. 

**~End part 1~**


	2. Part 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   


A/N: A tip o' the authorial hat to Paula S. & Jillian B. (of the 'Legends of Middle Earth' yahoo group) for their beta'ing of the early parts of this story; also one to Alyx for her review. ^_^   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

**The Dream - Part 2**   
by Bex   


I lay insensate for close to a full day, my body solidly there, but my spirit in anguish having fled to the deepest reaches of my being. And none of those watching over me were familiar or trusted enough so that I could be lured out, at least not until many hours had passed. After some consultation, they decided to let me be, and hope for the best. 

Temeril returned to himself much more quickly, following familiar voices back to the soft candle light of evening, and a soft bed in the house of Healing. They said later that as memory of the afternoon's activities returned to him he almost leapt out of bed, wanting to be across the room, hovering over me where I lay. Only the stern countenance and a command to rest from the place's lord kept him in his place. 

"I did it," he said, dazed. Then: "What did I do?" Then his eyes closed, and he slept again. 

***** 

In the end, I came back on my own. My first words upon awakening in Imladris were not spoken aloud. I lay, looking upwards through barely open eyes and dimly thought: 

_I'm not supposed to be here_. Mind, I didn't know entirely where 'here' was in that moment. But I knew: this was 'wrong'. 

_Yet here you are_, someone answered, curiosity and a dry humour intertwined in his 'voice'. Also not aloud...though I didn't notice that at the time. _Will you not rest with us here then for a time while you recover?_

It was a reasonable enough request.... I drifted away back into sleep, this time a more natural, healing rest. But dreamless. 

***** 

Once he was deemed recovered enough to leave his bed, Temeril posted himself on permanent watch-duty next to where I still slept. As Geanir the chief-Healer noted dryly, it _was_ the least he could do. Considering what his actions had wrought. 

So it was that the first face I saw upon waking again was an unfamiliar visage...yet attached to a familiar 'feel'. Snuggling to the side, I opened my eyes, and was caught in an intense gaze. Confused by the juxtaposition of impressions, I stared, frozen. 

Barely restrained eagerness. _Greeting, welcome, here I am, know you, know me?_

I let out a strangled squeak, wanting nothing more than to dive under the covers. Somewhere nearby a sense of urgency rapidly approached, and the person staring at me shifted his attention, and I could move again. Gasping, I surged upwards, the coverlet over me jerking as I thrashed. 

I froze again. It was... Going to be all right. I was safe. No danger. No need to panic. 

I blinked, noticing that I was indeed clothed - a simple white gown. I glanced around me. Unfamiliar surroundings, but homey. Quiet. Calm. My mind registered clean wood, stone flagged flooring, beds, windows, cool outdoor light. I blinked again, and turned my attention to the two men whose attention, I realized, was fixed upon me. 

Both were easily among the fairest men I had ever seen. An unaffected haleness, though...not one they'd obviously strived for. Both long-haired, dressed in simple robes. An odd angularity to the ears. At first glance, one might have mistaken them as being the same age. On second glance... One was fair-haired, and radiated an impression of knowledge and experience. The other was dark-haired. And the sense of excitement and eagerness, and in a way I could not fully articulate then, youth...left me with no doubt that it was he to whom I'd awakened. 

And that stranger though he might look at first glance...I somehow 'knew' him. 

I followed my natural first impulse. Which was to open my mouth and say, "Hello". 

Which I soon learned, was a word from a language they understood not a bit. 

Fortunately, they still got the gist of my meaning...that being, I later found, a handy side effect of being from a race of beings who mind-talked among themselves more often than not. They... felt my intention, as it were. As I could just barely feel theirs. Which was probably what prevented me from erupting into any screaming panic attacks that day. 

My greeting had the intended effect. They both smiled. I began to relax even more. Where ever I was, it was nice. Very nice. No one was attacking me. Waiting for me. Waiting for me to wake up. Glad to see me. Curious. 

I vocalized the most immediate and logical question: "Where am I?" 

Safe. I was safe. They continued to exude an extremely comforting, calm friendliness, but I frowned slightly, as they continued to (as I then thought) not answer me. 

"Do you understand my language?" 

A slight frown momentarily marred the older man's visage. The younger one looked intently at me. I felt my trepidation return, mounting rapidly. My God, in some strange place, and I didn't even speak the language-- 

Temeril said later that despite Gaenir's admonishments for him to not approach me too closely, too soon, he couldn't stand the feel of my fear any further at that point, and reached forward to take my right hand in both of his. 

The physical contact shocked me out of my incipient panic. I turned my head to stare at him with a combination of indignation and surprise. And the bold fellow smiled widely at me. And, mimicking my words to the best of his ability, said 'Hell-oh'. 

I gawped. Then shut my mouth. "You know what I'm saying, then?" I asked. 

And he somehow caught enough of the meaning behind my words. He shook his head, even as he repeated the unfamiliar word. 'Hell-oh. Hell-oh." 

And I couldn't help it. I smirked momentarily at the ridiculousness of the situation. Delighted, the young man's grin widened. Cheeky. 

The older man now made his own greeting, a less impudent smile gracing his lips. "Hell-oh." He nodded meaningfully, then added, "Suilad." Another nod bracketed his speech. _These are the same_. 

I felt a rush of hope. I might not know the language, but I could learn! At least enough words to communicate the most important basics! 

The smiles of the men widened. They suddenly seemed enormously pleased. I found myself sharing the emotion. 

It was time, though, to employ ye olde sign language. I pulled gently at my trapped hand, and the young one let it go, his expression turned questioning. Thank God for body language. 

I looked around in the most contrived manner of confusion I could, gesturing at the room around me, then looked pointedly to my companions. I shrugged in bemusement. Where? Where was I? 

Sudden comprehension dawned. The older man copied my pointing. "Imladris", he said slowly in response. "Im-la-dris." 

I nodded. "Imladris." 

The young man laughed. Not a mocking sound, an expression of pure joy. I glanced at him, startled...then added my own smile. He pointed eagerly to himself. "Temeril". 

I nodded to him politely. "Hello, Tem-er-il". He was delighted. The older man introduced himself as "Gaenir" and I greeted him in turn. I then tried to repeat my greetings using what, if I had understood correctly, was their version of 'hello'. The older man gently corrected my pronunciation, but nodded and smiled widely, apparently well pleased at my attempt at reciprocation. 

Temeril pointed at me and gave me his own version of exaggerated questioning and I realized with a flush of chagrin that I'd forgotten to introduce myself. "Sarah", I said, pointing. He grinned. "Suilad, Sarah!" he said merrily. The older man greeted me similarly, adding a few as yet unknown words. Getting up, he began to cross the room, heading back to unfinished tasks, perhaps. 

I slumped back on the pillows with a sigh of relief. So much progress in so little time. Maybe there was hope after all. 

_**Of course** there was hope._

Movement at the other end of the room caught my eye and I looked up. Someone new had arrived. Tall, dark-haired, robed similarly to the others, with a simple circlet adorning his head, his bearing screamed dignity and knowledge. 

I sat up as straight as I could before I quite realized what I was doing. It was obvious that this was Somebody - I'd best pay attention. Beside me, Temeril stirred restlessly, and I glanced askance at him. He seemed...if I wasn't simply imagining it...suddenly subdued. 

Then I caught the glance the new arrival slotted Temeril as he drew near us. And I _knew_ without any words being spoken that Temeril was in the doghouse. In a manner of speaking. He met the newcomer's gaze momentarily, then glanced down at the floor before looking back at me. 

I blinked. I was in a place where one of my first allies was in trouble with Authority. I began to watch both of them _very_ closely indeed. 

This did not go unnoticed. If it could be said that the newcomer's eyes could twinkle...they did. I found his attention upon me next. An exceedingly gracious smile he gave me, with the barest inclination of his head, as he greeted me in English, albeit with that same strange inflection. "Hell-oh, Sarah." 

I was a tad non-plussed, given that he hadn't been here to participate in our impromptu little English lesson. He pointed next at himself. "Elrond i eneth n"n." 

I blinked again and stared. "Elrond?" I asked. Had I heard correctly? 

He tilted his head, gazing at me intently, and nodded. "Elrond." 

The pieces fell into place with the mental equivalent of a dull _thud_. 'Imladris' I hadn't recognized earlier, but Elrond was not a name that you heard every day. Certainly not in the context of him being a real person standing in front of you. 

'Elrond." I said again, this time not quite a question. Again he nodded, patient as only a being who'd lived millennia could be. Though I wasn't looking at Temeril where he was perched to my right, I could feel he was fit to burst with questions, though he knew better than to interrupt. Behind Elrond, I saw that Gaenir had drawn near again, lured towards the unfolding scene by his own curiosity. 

I gestured with my arms to indicate my surroundings. "Arda", I said. 

Everyone in the room nodded, startled by my sudden comprehension, my apparent grasp of the bigger picture. 

I dropped my arms and looked forlornly up at them all. 

"I'm not supposed to be here." 

**~End Part 2~**


	3. Part 3

**The Dream - Part 3**   


by Bex 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   


How was it that someone who was a complete stranger here and didn't even understand more than a word of two of the language could be obliged to join the leader of a hidden elven enclave in order to break fast?! 

So I wondered, yet there I was, sitting, fidgeting inwardly, at a small table across from Elrond Halfelven. I knew he supposedly had family. None of them were in attendance; all I'd seen was a servant who'd gracefuly and silently slipped in and out to deliever the morning's repast: breads, cheeses, cold meats, and a mild, perhaps watered-down wine. Temeril, who'd practically been my shadow since I'd awoken had pointedly not been invited. A selection of pantomime had formed my invitation, and curious and truth be told chary of causing offense by refusing, I'd accepted, and been guided to this cozy room in what I assumed to be the family quarters of Rivendell's leader. 

I gulped mentally. Here, somehow, came the subtle disguised interrogation, I thought. To find out how I knew of this place, if I, as I claimed, didn't belong here. I ought never to have opened my mouth. 

_You keep saying that. Why?_

I tensed and slotted him a wary glance. He was poised, knife raised over a roll, eyebrow slightly arched. 

Yes, that had been him. He was talking to me mind to mind. I instantly accepted that, but part of me froze, rabbit-like. If it hadn't been so unnerving, I'd have jumped for joy over the sudden ability to communicate. Caught between conflicting emotions, I sensibly did nothing. 

_Yes. Though the others also spake to you thus._

Then why was it now so obvious--? Was he thinking in English--? 

_Mind-talk is mind-talk. Universal. You assume it to be your own tongue. It may be that the human side of my heritage allows me to speak more clearly to you, for you to understand. I wanted to speak with you alone, without the distractions of others nearby to confuse matters._

I offered a shakey smile. 

_Why are you suddenly so wary of us?_ He tactfully didn't add, _Of me_, though he might as well have. 

_I'm not supposed to be here_, I said simply. And he was the Leader, with the fate of all here in his hands, and-- 

_Ah_. His sending contained the equivalent of a wry smile. _Do you think I'd have allowed you within this House to begin with, had I considered you to be a danger to us?_

That had the paradoxical effect of being at once reassuring and unnerving. Me always having been one to read between the lines. 

_All of us are capable of being dangerous, Sarah...given the proper circumstances. Including you. But here, now...it seems we were fated to meet, in friendship._

I looked up hopefully, but lodged a last protest. _This isn't my place. My land. It's so different from where I usually am. I **have** to be dreaming. Soon, I will wake up, and be gone._

He paused in consideration, and to my surprise, didn't automatically disagree with my assessment. _That may be. But until then, you are here, yes?_

I sat and stared narrow-eyed at him. How could he be so accepting of this, this impossibility? Did he always believe three impossible things before breakfast every morning? 

Across the table his wry smile widened slightly. _You judge me by your_... He didn't have to add 'human'... _standards. I have seen far more than you could perhaps imagine._

And there it was - that touch of Elven arrogance! I hesitated, caught between real irritation and amusement. It might even have been unconscious on his part, and yet I couldn't quite leave it unanswered... 

_I don't know - I can imagine **quite** a lot!_

And he laughed aloud, a short chuckle. _That, then may be the reason that you are here, now._

I sat then, and simply gave him a Look. Damn him - it'd taken him all of ten minutes to get me off my guard and unbent and look at him-! Pleased as the cat with the proverbial bird... 

He peered across at me, face gone innocent again, before allowing one corner of his mouth to quirk momentarily. _Well, I have, it could be said...been around for a while._ He waved a hand, indicating my almost untouched food. _Eat - do you want me to have to tell Fiorin that you didn't like her cooking?_ But he was again smiling. 

I shook my head. And found myself now able to eat, my stomach setting forth its demands, now that the tide of anxiety had vanished. At least for now. 

It was indeed something to experience a first hand demonstration of **why** Elrond was the long-time leader of a hidden elven enclave. 

***** 

We finished our meal in mostly companionable mental silence, me inwardly still shaking my head with the wonder of it all. If this _was_ a dream, I wondered how much I would recall when I eventually awoke. 

I paused suddenly, frozen in the act of finishing off a roll. I glanced up at Elrond and found him gazing back. Finishing my mouthful, I addressed him again. 

_The ability to imagine might be key, you said. One thing I can imagine is... Can you... arrange it so I can understand and speak the languages here? Or at least the elven language?_ The thought of being reduced again to sign language and Hello-Goodbye when I left his presence didn't appeal to me in the least. 

He pondered a few moments. _I do not know_, he admitted finally. _But if it is within our power here, it shall be done. I shall consult certain records._

And so he set out to do, once breakfast was over. In the meantime, a servant escorted me back, not to the House of Healing, but to a room set aside for me, for Gaenir had released me. If I was well enough to eat with Elrond, I was healed enough, Elrond had told me was how he'd put it. But I had been adjured to rest much, lest I end up back in the infirmary. 

When in doubt, rest, I guess their motto was. 

We'd gone down one short hallway before Temeril happened by chance to encounter us. Chance my arse. A cheery "Hell-oh, Sarah!", a few elven words and meaningful glances later, and he'd evidentally wrangled his way into relieveing my original escort of her duties. She accepted the inevitable and departed back whence we'd come, as the young lad took over. 

Back to the smiles and pantomime. I looked at him a little darkly. Why was this fellow turning into my shadow, and why most of all did he feel somehow 'familiar'? It was much more than the fact that we'd both been in the infirmary. He glanced sidelong at me, and his mien turned furtive. 

I thought back to what Elrond had said about mind-talking. He'd said everyone had been doing it to me; I just hadn't recognized it as such. Which meant Temeril probably knew basically what I was thinking... 

_My God, did I have no privacy at **all**?!_

Temeril looked at me in sudden alarm. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then shook his head in frustration. Halting at a door, he opened it and gestured gracefully with one hand in clear invitation. _Your room, milady..._ the movement said. 

At this I had to smile, and I ventured within. The room was well-appointed, cozy and comfortable, though not over-large. Stone floor, fireplace, bed, clothes press. Two large windows provided plenty of light. A stand with bowls and ewers for washing. I had no complaints about the accomodation. Not least as I'd shown up, an uninvited and unexpected guest. 

My escort, however...was another matter. He waited within the room, but near the door, as if waiting for a tip. I stood pretending to look around, even though I'd seen enough to know I'd be fine here. _I know you can understand me...can't you?_ I sent to my new friend. I felt nothing obvious in return and snarled in sudden anger. _**ANSWER ME!!**_

I felt suddenly a lump of ice in my stomach...and realized that wasn't me. It was him, as I turned on my heel to find him staring at me in what I could only interpret as shock...and hurt. 

And I knew without being told that I'd just done the mental equivalent of slapping him across the face. Probably. 

"I'm sorry...I didn't really mean..." 

Except I had. In a way. I stared at him, guilt and anger coiling in my gut. Why the conflicting feelings? One minute, he was a sweet, reassuring presence near me, the next, profoundly Irritating. I mean, it wasn't like he'd been the cause of me coming here or someth-- 

I watched his face change its expression. Trapped rabbit. Now _that's_ something to see on the fair, forever unblemished face of an elf. Once again, the pieces fell into place, like grinding boulders. The look Elrond had given Temeril in the infirmary suddenly made sense. _Too_ much sense. 

_You did this. It was you. YOU!!!_

He flinched back. Young as he was, nevertheless a being already older than I'd ever get...but still cringing away from my human fury. 

A fury which abated almost as fast as it had arisen. I sat down heavily on the bed, abruptly exhausted. _You did this. Do you have any idea what you've done?_

"I'm sorry. I just... wanted to meet you." 

And he was, too. As angry as I had been with him, I could feel it. He might have been a young, naive, meddling fool, to do what he had done...but he was a sincere one. 

I 'heard' him now, almost as clearly as I'd 'heard' Elrond. Then I realized...he'd spoken aloud. I gawped. 

"Say that again!" 

His brow furrowed. "That I am sorry?" 

"You talked! I can understand you!" I jumped up, my dire straights momentarily forgotten in my excitement. "He must have found some magic or spell and gotten it to work!" 

It was true...my verbal language as far as I could now tell was synched with that of those with whom I spoke. Or so it seemed to me; I could speak and get their meaning, which was all I cared about. To be specific, it worked with Temeril. Now to test it further. 

I ducked my head out of my room, just in time to see someone passing by in the hallway outside. "Excuse me; do you understand what I'm saying??" I asked her breathlessly, the words tumbling out. 

The dark-haired young woman froze, astonished at the unexpected interrogation. Raising an eyebrow in a gesture which as it would turn out she'd inherited from her father, she paused, perhaps noting Temeril's pale face peering over my shoulder. 

Amusement and sudden comprehension altered her expression, and she inclined her head gracefully. "Yes, Lady Sarah," she replied, her own eyes twinkling. "I understand you perfectly." She sent an additional archly amused glance at the person lurking behind me then inclined her head again in a gesture of farewell to me before gliding on her way. 

I almost clapped my hands together as I turned back to Temeril. "Do you know what this MEANS?! I can talk! To you all!" 

Under the influence of my newfound joy, some of his chagrin began to dissipate, his natural cheer reasserting itself. "Does this mean you're not angry with me anymore?" 

I paused to look consideringly at him. Really look at him. I felt I somehow 'knew' him? What then was there, below the handsomely packaged surface of this being who'd somehow dragged me living into a dream? 

"Still, somewhat. But it doesn't matter as much...now that I can at least talk to you all." 

It would probably matter again later. But for the moment, I had an elven city to explore...and a willing guide, eager to expiate his misdeed. 

**~End Part 3~**


	4. Part 4

**The Dream - Part 4**   


by Bex 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   


Walking the by-ways of Imladris had the effect of calming me, bringing me down from my elation. Ironically, despite my initial joy at having my ability to speak to all restored...I found myself barely needing to talk at all. 

Down corridors, across flagged squares, along grassy lawns. Those we met tended to offer the faintest of smiles, the smallest of nods. Still others regarded us not, bent on their own errands. 

I found that many of the gardens most resembled Japanese gardens in their unmannered, 'natural' design. Very calming. Tiring quickly after all, I deposited my posterior on a wooden bench in one such area. Perhaps Gaenir'd been right when he'd advised taking lots of rest... 

Temeril sat down next to me. He'd gone unusually quiet during our walk. I glanced aside at him. "I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier. That wasn't necessary." 

He smiled faintly in response. 

The silence stretched on between us. 

I found myself thinking: _He brought me all the way here to meet me, eh? Bet he's sorry now..._ and repressed a giggle that I suspected would easily have been classed as 'semi-hysterical'. 

I looked over, then up as he again took a hand in his. "No, I am...sorry I hurt you. By bringing you here." 

I smiled my own small smile back at him. "Don't tend to do that sort of thing as a rule, eh?" 

"I did not know it would work. It may be that no one has done such a thing before." 

I nodded. "It wasn't _all_ your fault." 

I'd managed to surprise him; he was now staring at me. "I remember... Someone calling me. That was you, wasn't it?" When he nodded, I continued. "Well, I went towards you. I didn't have to do that... _did_ I?" 

He considered that. Then smiled again, this time a little closer to his former enthusiasm. 

"Perhaps you'll be written up in the history scrolls..." 

He glanced quickly at me. "Now you mock me." 

I ducked my head and smirked. "Yes, I do...I'm sorry." 

We sat there, my hand still in his and both grinning like fools, until we heard, or perhaps felt, someone's approach. Looking up I saw a robed male elf hastening towards us. No one I recognized. He, though, recognized us. 

"We thought to find you indoors, but here you are. Lord Elrond requests your attendance at a meeting due to take place shortly." 

I blinked. "Both of us?" 

He nodded. "Mithrandir arrived not an hour ago; he would meet with you both." 

My stomach clenched. Both elves glanced at me quickly as if startled, and I was reminded that whether or not they could always sense specific meanings, they certainly seemed to notice emotional surges. 

Fool that I was, I thought I'd already passed through the gauntlet of WhoIWasWhatIWasDoingHere, with Elrond. And 'passed'. 

I'd forgotten about Gandalf. 

"She has been ill," Temeril said loyally, aware that I was less than thrilled at the summons. "The Head Healer himself has ordered her to rest..." 

I was sorely tempted to put off the inevitable, but... 

Best get it over with. 

"It's all right, Temeril," I sighed. "Let's go." 

***** 

I approached the House with dragging feet, dread coiling in my gut. But it wasn't as if I were going to my own execution, after all! He just wanted to...talk to me and Temeril. I glanced aside at my companion, grateful that I would not be alone. 

As we drew near, we could see a figure waiting for us on the porch. I slowed a little, feeling exquisitely 'open'. _Must do something about that, I thought to myself vaguely. Can't just let everyone simply rifle through my thoughts, now, can I...?_

I felt a faint sensation of umbrage, realizing a few moments later that it wasn't mine. _Well, a person can hardly help noticing it when you are projecting your emotions all over the place, now, can they?_

He had a point. He also had a long ornately carved pipe, pale, perhaps made of ivory, and was smoking as he took his ease out there on this side porch. I gazed up at him mournfully. I could feel Temeril beside me, similarly subdued. The Istar gazed back for a few long moments as we stood at the bottom of the steps. The elf who'd fetched us inclined his head to Gandalf and disappeared indoors. 

A few long moments more, and he relented, his face crinkling as he motioned to the seats before him. "Sit, both of you. Up here, where I can see you. I won't bite. Much." 

_Very funny._

His face wrinkled in further merriment. We ascended and sat ourselves down before the gray-robed old man. 

He puffed in silence for a few minutes, gazing at us. Finally, he said: 

"Quite an accomplishment. If you want to call it that...given that it was, as I have heard, a complete accident." 

Temeril gazed at him uncertainly, and the wizard raised eyebrows at him in an invitation to elaborate. Taking his cue, the elf proceeded to once again describe the proccess by which he'd tracked me down, then altered the ritual to reach out to me. Thus I heard for the first time what had happened. Gandalf's gaze flicked back and forth between Temeril's face to mine during the telling. 

Then it was my turn to describe what I had experienced on my end. Including that little detail - that I'd willingly ventured close enough to Temeril to get snagged. If one wanted to get technical. In the end I added little to the over-all tale. Like Elrond, the wizard was little nonplussed by my mentions of dreams...even when my words implied that to me, our surroundings might well be but a dreamscape. 

"You said you came here from a very different place? You are of the race of men, are you not?" 

I nodded warily. "Yet Arda is not my home." 

"And yet you know of it, and of Elrond. And, it appears, of me. How?" 

I winced inwardly. The $10,000 question. I had decided that honesty was to be my policy regarding this - but no elaboration unless pressed. 

"Some there told tales of this place and those who helped shape its history." 

He nodded, thoughtfully. When he said no more, puffing away on his pipe, I blinked. That was _it?!_ He was simply going to _accept_ all that? 

Gandalf's eyes glinted at me from under his bushy brows. "Oh, this is hardly the first time I've heard of other realms. Though I'd never heard of successful travel between them, that hardly being my area of interest." His eyes crinkled up at my astonishment. 

"Neither had I." Temeril's and my head swiveled to see that Imladris's lord had joined us on the porch, there to lean against one pillar, arms folded as he peered at us. Gandalf simply continued to smoke in apparent contentment. "Though a few scrolls documenting events of the First Age have mentioned stories of elves who disappeared, never to be seen again. They were not deemed to have been captured by the Enemy, nor sent to the Halls of Mandos. But neither did they ever come to Valinor." 

We were all silent then, thinking. 

"You don't think my coming here was really just an accident caused by Temeril." 

Three pairs of eyes fastened on me. "As we have seen it does not occur easily. Was inteference on the part of still others involved? I cannot say." 

"Yet there are...'Guardians' of Arda. Some of our tales spoke of them." I hesitated, and when Elrond and Temeril both nodded confirmation, I continued. "Might they have done it?" Next to me, Temeril looked non-plussed, perhaps having already gotten used to the idea of being able to claim exclusive credit for my arrival. 

"Would that be within their power? Probably." It seemed Gandalf was tiring of the fruitless speculation and had concluded his questioning of us. Had I 'passed' inspection? Again? My mind raced, as he shifted on his seat, then began to lever himself up. 

For all that I'd worried about this meeting...I had yet one more thing to say. So much for my determination not to offer unsolicited information. 

"There's one more thing." 

Gandalf paused. All three men looked politely at me. 

"The tales of Arda, told in my land..." I struggled for words that would inform but hopefully not overly-alarm. "I know not how true they are, you understand? How well-remembered." I looked pleadingly at the two older men, and they nodded their understanding. 

"Some of the tales...were of things I believe are yet to come, here." There. I'd said it. 

Elrond sent an unreadable glance to Gandalf. Who sent an equally unreadable one back. 

And they both turned blandly reassuring faces to us. I might have mentioned that it would be sunny tommorrow, so unconcerned were they. Temeril didn't seem to get it; at least I saw and felt no surprise from him. "We shall speak no more of this tonight - we have already talked much, today," Elrond said. Which was certainly true. "Time enough after we have all supped and rested." As if on cue, I yawned hugely. 

"I shall see her back to her quarters," Temeril promised. Elrond nodded, adding that food would shortly be brought to my room. We bid our good nights, and started back across the lawn to the guest room wing, dusk setting in around us now. 

For good or ill...I'd now put my foot well in it. Though perhaps...I'd agonized, made my big confession...all for nothing? 

**~End part 4~**


	5. Part 5

**The Dream - Part 5**   


by Bex 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   


The next morning, I stirred, opened an eye, and crept out of bed, still in Imladris...and no lightning struck. Instead, bright morning sunlight streamed through the windows. 

So far, so good. 

I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at my bare toes where they peeked out from under the edge of the white linen shift, and considered my situation. 

Still here. My second day (third if you counted the time they claimed I'd been unconscious) in another world...or dreaming. I'd never heard of a dream where one slept...but that didn't necessarily prove anything. After all, while you were in it it might seem completely real in all respects... right? 

Which begged the unsettling question of what was left at that point to make it 'unreal'. 

_Gods_, when was I going to wake _up?!_ Then again...why hurry back? If one had to be pulled into a different world...one could do so much worse than Imladris. 

The House was apparently, among other things, the local equivalent of a 4 star hotel. I performed cursory morning abulations, twisted my hair into a knot using my hair elastic, then slid the utterly simple blue-gray linen shift/overtunic I'd worn yesterday over my head, slipped on sandles, and set off to re-find the dining hall. 

Temeril materialized at my elbow before I'd gone ten paces from my room. One moment I was glancing out a hall window, the next he was there-- 

I let out a squeak of surprise, then stared at him with narrowed eyes. He smiled warily as he wished me a good morning, aware that I was suddenly irritated at him but perhaps not quite certain why. 

"Good morning," I reciprocated a trifle sourly. "And how long were _you_ there waiting for me?" 

He shrugged slightly. "I rose early, attended to some duties, then came here." 

I noted that he hadn't answered my question, but already another question begged to be asked. "Don't you have family here? Where are your mother and father?" 

To my surprise, he shook his head, then explained that his parents lived in the settlement at the Gray Havens, involved in the rather crucial trade of the building of ships fit to make the voyage to Valinor. Sindril and Aevis of the Havens. They had arranged for his residence here in Imladris, under Elrond's authority, until he was (by elvish standards) an adult, a status he'd attained about five years ago. At that time, he'd pledged service to the lord of Imladris for a further period. Apparently a custom not dissimilar to the old Earth custom of fosterage - with post-doctorates - held sway here. 

"Oh." I smiled, my mood settling back down again. "Have you made yourself my squire, then?" 

Picking up on both the teasing and the actual question, he pulled a face before answering, with a smile, "Would you have me abandon you to wander Imladris alone, after leading you here?" 

He had a point - this was apparently a lad who took his responsibilities seriously. "As long as I don't keep you away from your other duties..." 

"In this sort of situation one might expect some exceptions to be made to the usual routine." The voice was tinged with amusement, and belonged to Gandalf, watching us from the dining hall's porch as we approached. 

"Good morning to you, too." I wasn't quite so intimidated by him now...though still wary. But more because of the changeable nature and hidden power I sensed from him than any feeling of specific threat. At any rate, my smile now was genuine and spontaneous. Somewhat to my own surprise. 

He inclined his head a fraction in the usual subtle, classy, and all-purpose Ardan greeting. 

But as we mounted the steps and were about to pass inside, he asked suddenly, "Lady Sarah...a moment of you time, if you will. What were your...duties in the land from whence you came?" 

I paused, considering how to best word it. Non-fiction writing, some of it quite technical... "I was...a scribe of sorts," I told him finally. He nodded. "But at night, on my own time"... and here I smiled broadly... "I wrote original stories...stories never seen before." 

He nodded again, slowly. "You were a recorder of tales." 

"A creator of stories. _New_ tales," I corrected him proudly. And then my guide and I continued inside, leaving the wizard to peer after us. I was left with the impression that he was mulling over my choice of words. 

***** 

As I had expected, I was called to council after breakfast. Temeril was not. I seated myself at a table in one of the library rooms, as close to a proper conferance room as I'd seen thus far. 

Several other people had joined us this time. A blond elf who exuded a wise mien rather similar to Imladris's lord, another dark-haired elf, and a fair-haired she-elf. 

Elrond introduced them briefly: Glorfindal, Mearin, and Jonil. Each inclined his or her head in greeting, then fastened their gazes on me. "You may speak freely here," he added. 

Of course I could. I stared back at them and wondered how to begin. Then, the most urgent and salient question came to mind. "What year is it?" 

"3018, by our reckoning. Spring, as you can see - April." It was Gandalf who answered. 

"Were you on your way to or from the Shire when you stopped here?" 

"I am on my way there." 

I let out a sigh of relief. "All right, good. It's not too late, and events here seem to synch with the details in the tales I have heard. You do understand that they may not match in all respects?" 

Heads nodded. 

"To establish a bit of credibility, I shall tell you this. If it matches enough, then we'll have something to work with, yes? Something few to none outside this room should know." 

More nods. 

"The One Ring has been found, and is currently but unwittingly in the hands of Frodo Baggins of Bag End, Hobbiton." 

The room went very still. There was a long moment of silence. Then, across the table, Gandalf sighed and nodded, glancing down, as if all his strength had momentarily run out of him with the admission. 

"You were on your way there now to perform one last test, and warn him." 

"Yes." His glance returned to my face as he recovered himself. 

_My God_, the power I held right now...if one counted information as power. It was a heady... and terrifying moment. 

I looked at my own recently-gnawed fingernails for a moment, then back up at my companions. "Do you want to know what happens?" I asked quietly, but before anyone could answer, I added, "There's just one problem: How do I know that telling you won't set in motion changes that lead to a _different_ outcome than what our tales told?" 

Glances were passed around the table. 

"Maybe I wasn't supposed to come here. Maybe this is all a big mistake." _You understand now?_

"In the tales you heard... The outcome was... positive?" Glorfindal asked. 

"Ultimately, yes." 

"In what way?" That was Elrond. 

I considered my words carefully. 'Sauron's threat to Arda was ended." 

More glances flew around the table. More than glances, too. Without being able to see the 'content' this time, I sensed information was being passed and shared as well. 

"Also...just because I have heard the tales of...what came to pass...does not mean it will all come to pass exactly so, here." 

Gandalf peered at me intently. "Nor does it mean it will necessarily _not_ come to pass." 

"True," I conceeded. "But it all comes down to this: Do you still feel I was meant to come here and tell you this?" 

Their gazes turned thoughtful, Gandalf's and Elrond's especially so, perhaps as the impetus behind some of my unanswered questions from yesterday became clear. 

Maerin, the blond-haired female elf, spoke then. "You have asked us this question...what does your _own_ heart say?" I shot her a panicked glance. Oh, no - they weren't putting that onus on _me_! "Don't ask me that." This wasn't even my world; they expected me to make _that_ sort of judgement call?! 

"For all your protestations, you are here now," Elrond helpfully reminded me. "What does that tell you?" 

I snarled inwardly. "That I'm unusually unlucky?" Across the table, Gandalf's mouth quirked momentarily. 

Jonil had said nothing thus far; simply listened. But now he spoke. "Why did you speak of this at all, if you are so unwilling to do so now?" 

Five gazes fastened expectantly on me. And waited. That was the salient question. Why _had_ I opened my mouth last night; what urgency had propelled me? 

_I want to save lives_, I thought to myself. _I want to avoid the suffering. I know what's going to happen; like a gigantic obstacle course, I would detour around it, if I could. So many lives saved; so much horror averted..._

Five gazes softened somewhat, and Elrond spoke. "Some destinies, it seems, cannot be averted... Yet, had I known in my past what I know now...I cannot say that I would not have taken...certain actions, if I could," he admitted quietly. 

I thought of the failed chance to destroy the Ring that first time, upon Mount Doom, and nodded. _I would, too. I would, too. To Hell with 'History' and 'noble quests'. This isn't a stirring tale, this is peoples' lives!_ I also thought of the mutability...that sometimes occured in the affairs of Arda. Hell, across from me sat a being who'd gotten to come back from the dead! I glanced away self-consciously as Glorfindal's gaze sharpened again. All right, it didn't happen often, but those sorts of...'reboots' _did_ happen from time to time here. Was it so different, or wrong, to simply use information to our best advantage? 

Knowledge was power...and I had it. 

_Feel like playing God...Sarah?_

And the answer to that was...**_YES_**. 

**~End part 5~**


	6. Part 6

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

A shout-out to kurleyhawk2 n' Crystal - thanks for the kind words! =) Glad you liked what ya saw so far... stick around and see what develops. ^_^ 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

**The Dream - Part 6**   


by Bex 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   


Gandalf left for the Shire the next day, only one day behind his original schedule. Not a large change, as such things go. 

After all, much more dramatic shifts to the original timeline of events were likely coming soon. 

I'd sketched out my general knowledge of the events of the War of the Ring throughout the rest of the morning and much of the afternoon. Sadly, my memory for specific dates was not that good, nor my recall accurate for more than the most general information regarding the movements of the various enemy armies. I simply hadn't paid that much attention to those particular military details. 

Hopefully, the changes that would now be set in motion would soon render that knowledge irrelevant anyway - even the few most crucial facts might be enough to give us the edge. Now, some of those battles might never need come to pass. Hopefully. 

Some of my claims naturally had to be confirmed. My news of Saruman's defection, for example. 

It was, however, _not_ going to be tested by Gandalf. A messenger was going to be sent under a suitable pretext; hopefully, with our foreknowledge he would be able obtain the proof we needed of Saruman the White's treachery through a much less painful process than Gandalf's imprisonment and escape upon the back of a gigantic eagle. Ahem. 

I tried not to think of what might happen to the 'messenger' if his true purpose were discovered by Saruman. 

So many new worries, now... 

Though they weren't really my responsibility, I kept reminding myself. Repeatedly. I'd spilled my guts, played the prophetess; it was now up to others to use that information to our best advantage. 

I'd half expected to now vanish out of this waking dream, perhaps wake again in my old bed the next morning. 

But here I was...day four in Imladris. 

I was a bit at a loss for what exactly to do...but as it turned out...this was the day I finally ran into Bilbo. 

Not literally, fortunately - I chanced across him as I perambulated the House's byways later that morning. Temeril had gone off for a while to other duties, evidentally considering me fit enough to be losing myself in the myriad of passageways. 

And so I did just that. 

And as I turned one corner, I saw before me this tiny old white-haired man shuffling down the hall towards me, cane in hand. If his diminutive stature hadn't given him away... the huge furry feet, unshod, certainly would have. 

I stopped and stared. Bilbo - it could be no other! I'd forgotten _all_ about him being here! 

He glanced up and saw me. Eyes glinting, he rapidly sized me up. "Good morning!" he said. "Tall enough for one, but unless my eyes are mistaken...no elf. Are you visiting fair Imladris?" 

I resisted the impulse to squat before him. "I guess you could say that. I'm Sarah Deccker." I smiled and resisted my second impulse, which was to extend a hand for him to shake - that was _not_ a common gesture here. "Would you by chance be _the_ Bilbo Baggins?" 

He let out a short laugh. "Not a terribly difficult guess, given that I am the only Hafling in residence here these days!" He then mused, as if thinking aloud, "Deccker...what might the meaning of that name be?" 

I considered. "Where I come from, the meanings of many of our names have been lost. But they continue to be handed down from parent to child." 

He nodded. "You are our visitor from a very far land, is that right? The one who sent Elrond into such a tizzy with the news you brought?" 

I shifted self-consciously. "Well, yes...though I'd hardly call it a 'tizzy'. They were of course interested..." I paused. "How did _you_ know that?" 

He waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, it's all over Rivendell now." He began to walk again, glancing up at me as he began to pass. "Would you care to join me for Elvenesses? The cooks here make a very nice seedcake. You could tell me about your land." 

I turned and started pacing alongside him. "Well, it's not _my_ land. Not all of it." 

He chuckled. "Well, then, just tell me of your own bit of it!" 

"All right, but no putting it in that book of yours." He shot me a startled glance, and I could tell he was both surprised and pleased I'd known of it. 

"As you wish... but pray tell, why not?" 

"I'm not supposed to be here." He gave me a bemused look-over as if about to re-state the obvious, and I clarified. "I only came here to do something specific. I'll be going back soon." 

He seemed to accept that, nodding as most all there who'd heard my explanation had done. 

I managed to deflect most of his curiosity during the subsequent conversation over tea and cakes by mentioning a few vague generalities, then asking him to elaborate on some of the details of his own past adventures. As I'd hoped, he was more than happy to be shifted onto the new subject, and held forth at length. He did mention 'his magic ring' once or twice, but didn't focus upon it. A sweetly eccentric old fellow, if a bit given to living on his past laurels. 

Then again... how many dragon-ridden treasure quests can a person go on in one lifetime? 

Well, at least, a mortal's lifetime. He could hardly be blamed for liking to cast his gaze backwards, dwelling on past experiences, the accompanying traumas dulled by the intervening years. 

I reflected upon that as we parted ways, him heading back to his quarters, me pausing a few moments to watch him go. He'd seemed especially to have relished the notorious reputation his travels had gained him among his fellow hobbits. Or so he'd claimed. Perhaps he'd simply made the best of an unpleasant social reality and taken up his new 'black sheep' role with gusto...until it had at long last worn thin. 

At least he'd had this haven to retreat to for his retirement. After performing a feat of will that no mortal had ever before been known to do - voluntarily giving up a malevolant talismen of supremely concentrated power. 

He _had_ earned all our respect, I reminded myself. It was quite easy to get caught up in the obvious with that fellow...and forget what he had done. 

I felt a presence behind me, and turned to see the Lord of Imladris and his daughter, sweeping by on their way somewhere. We exchanged nods of greeting, me attempting to suppress the pang of sheepishness as I recalled finding out exactly who that young woman I'd accosted two days ago was. 

Fortunately, she did seem to have a good sense of humour - she did not, I could tell, hold it against me. 

Still, a bit over-awed, I'd decided to stay out of her way now that I knew who she was. I was just a mortal; she someone centuries older and more knowledgeable than me, yet forever looking better than I ever would. 

It _was_ a bit off-putting. 

I wish I could have not cared about those things...but I did. 

Besides...I wasn't going to be here that long. 

What I didn't realize until a bit later...was that I was still broadcasting my thoughts and feelings, rather strongly. Wish I'd known that...especially when certain people were passing nearby. There's nothing like finding out you were doing the equivalent of running around, babbling loudly, whilst the people around you 'heard' your comments about them. 

May you never experience that level of supreme embarrasment. 

I was, however, spared that realization for a little time yet. 

The days began to blur together as the week progressed. I continued to wake, dress and wander Imladris, returning to the House for meals and more sleep. I'd been advised to not wander too far from the settlement proper. Occasionally I would spend time with the few faces I knew: taking meals with Temeril, very infrequently Bilbo, who seemed to spend a disproportionate time in his room. He'd mentioned he was adding the last touches to his book, but I suspected he was mostly napping. 

The place was peaceful - _too_ peaceful. I found myself sitting, my mind drifting, for hours on end, in corners of secluded gardens. I also began frequenting the hall in which story-telling - mostly songs, actually - went on during the evening, as it had a similar effect on me. 

Several times, I woke there to find Temeril gently shaking me awake, before helping me back to my room. 

It seemed the place was slowly but surely seeping its way into me. I was, I reflected, becoming little better than Bilbo. I'd even begun to nap afternoons. 

It was a lovely place; it was unreal. The people within it were unreal. Too pretty. Too quiet. Too graceful. Their voices at night as they sang eerily sweet. 

Or maybe I was the one who was unreal - the burr within the silk. After all, was I still supposed to be here? Surely not; certainly not anymore. I'd done my bit, surely I ought to have already returned home. But then neither did I angst over family and friends left behind. I simply...existed. 

I didn't notice at the time that Temeril was becoming increasingly concerned at my growing lassitude. After all, he'd seen a human male raised here...and _he'd_ certainly never descended into this sort of passivity. 

The morning after he (as I found out later) went to Gaenir to mention his concerns was the day I didn't bother getting out of bed. In a departure from his usual practice, Temeril knocked upon my door when I didn't appear at my regular time, on my way to breakfast. 

"Yes?" I had barely the wit to answer. 

"Are you yet risen? I wait to escort you to break your fast..." 

I smiled fondly. My elven squire... 

"Lady Sarah?" I winced inwardly at the honorific. 'Lady' did not suit me. 

"I'm not hungry...you go on without me." 

I could feel a vague sense of worried indecision. That was him, paused before the door. 

"I'll be fine. Just need a bit more sleep." Dismissing the idea of him, waiting outside, I rolled over. 

"Lady Sarah...? May I enter?" 

I grunted in faint irritation, shutting my eyes, ignoring the bright late April morning sunshine . _G'way. Wanna sleep_. 

Not getting a terribly clear answer, he apparently hedged his bets - the door eased open a crack, giving him a view of the room, but he advanced no further. The door quietly re-closed and his presence rapidly receeded. 

And I sank gratefully into a sleep much too deep. 

**~End Part 6~**


	7. Part 7

**The Dream - Part 7**   


by Bex 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   


My next waking was almost identical to my first full waking in Imladris: coming back to awareness to find myself buffeted by a young elf's concern. And myself in the House of Healing. 

Someone was holding my right hand. I opened my eyes to see a worried looking Temeril...and behind him, both Gaenir and Elrond, also concerned, but their expressions rapidly changing to relief and satisfaction. And beyond them, the timbers of the infirmary's beamed roof. 

Waking to find myself the center of attention was quite disconcerting. I tensed, glancing rapidly from one to another, then realized where I was. Something had happened. 

Oh, dear... I'd been a bother. Embarrasment flooded me. 

The three elves gazing at me shifted, something akin to a glance but of the mind, I felt, passing among them. 

"What happened?" I asked. 

"Your spirit retreated within you again," the chief Healer explained. "Fortunately, Temeril recognized what was occuring and we were able to call you back within a couple of hours...with his, and Lord Elrond's help." He smiled reassuringly. 

My embarrasment deepened. I'd even gone and managed to drag the head bigwig away from his important duties... 

The head bigwig's eyebrows both rose. "As the lord of this place, the well being of all who dwell here is my concern - no matter for how little or how long a time they are here." _Did you think I would begrudge you my aid...even had you not already done us a great service?_

I glanced away, now discomforted at the possibility that I might have just badly insulted him. "I'm sorry - I just didn't want to put anyone out on my behalf." 

_I just do not understand why you do not want to accept that which is freely given you..._

He did seem more bemused than angry. I opened my mouth, then shut it again. How to explain? "I do accept it. Thank you. Thank you." I nodded my head rapidly, hoping desperately to forestall the tears I now felt brimming. 

Just as my vision swam out of focus, I again felt something, an understanding, flash between the three elves. About the most I 'got' was a sudden sense of _Ah! Aid **was** begrudged her in the past_ and _spirit injury_. An impression of rueful comprehension. Elrond took my hand from Temeril for a moment to send a quick wordless impression of reassurance, before releasing it and departing back to his other duties, understanding now that my awkwardness around him had returned full-force and perhaps, part of the reason why. 

Temeril stayed, though...even after Gaenir had also moved away to other tasks, even after my eyes continued to leak in a very embarrassing manner. 

_It_, he told me repeatedly, _is going to be all right_. 

***** 

Released from the infirmary as soon as I'd recovered from my flood of emotion, I found myself feeling as if I'd been jolted wise awake again, my senses sharp and clear. 

And accompanied by a certain young elf determined to spend the rest of the day with me, despite my feeble protests. 

In a demonstration of his stubborness-- I mean, _will_--, he smiled and shook his head. "There is no debate here now." 

I raised brows. "Oh, there isn't?" 

"Nay." 

"You're a stubborn fellow, Temeril. How much more so will you be when you've lived much longer than now?" But I smiled. 

We walked randomly and talked of inconsequentials. Until I asked: 

"You never yet told me of your duties here. What is it you do?" 

He led me down a corridor less trodden into one of the wings of the House I'd not yet explored. Opening a door to a chamber, he ushered me in. I looked around and smiled. 

It was a room around which ran shelving on which lay books, but mostly scrolls. A large table dominated the center of the room, and on it were laid piles of blank parchments, a few sheets partially filled with writing and illumination, and pots of ink and pens. 

"You're a scribe!" I turned to him. "You never said anything when I named myself one...well, sort of one. Or are you an archivist?" 

He grinned at my surprise and questions. Apparently he was both; perhaps conservatist would be a more accurate title. "It is necessary to copy the eldest among these from time to time, lest they be lost," he explained, pausing momentarily to peruse with a critical eye the sheet currently in progress. I nodded. "As it happened, I showed more skill at this than at the building of ships." His eyes twinkled. "And so, the Lord Elrond has appointed me to the task of ensuring the perservation of these records." 

The script on elvish manuscripts seemed more gracefully decorative (_like so many elvish things_, I thought) than comparable earth scripts. Line afer line flowed over the pages, drawing the gaze along. Sadly, whatever magic Elrond had wrought to allow me to instantly understand speech did not extend to the words on the pages before me. Still, I could admire the shapes of the letters and the over-all design of each page. What illuminations there were, were simple yet gorgeous. 

"I did not wish to pry," Temeril said then, apropos of nothing, until I realized that he was referring back to our conversation of several minutes earlier. "You seem reluctant to speak...of whence you came." His tone was neutral, his glance lasting but a moment before he turned his attention back to one manuscript. 

Ah. Simply tactful...or afraid of raising my ire by reminding me of what he'd done, drawing me here? 

I frowned slightly. "Temeril...I'm not angry at you anymore. Really." 

He continued to stare down at the parchment, as if considering his next words. Then, coming to a decision, he said quietly yet intently, "Yet you fled within. As if trying to flee this place. I almost could not find you, to lead you back." 

I opened my mouth and shut it again. He glanced over at me then, a grim set to his face. "You are right to be angry at me. I wronged you greatly by what I did." 

I looked at him helplessly. "Temeril, you didn't know what would happen!" 

"Yet still must I make amends." Stubborn elf mode again. As stubborn as he was curious, apparently. Oh, dear. 

"Even if I was supposed to come here?" 

He narrowed his eyes. "After all that you have said, you will now say _this_?" 

"It's just, that I'm thinking, now...that it wasn't an accident, in the end. Is all." 

He considered that, still brooding. Then looked up again. "Even so, I shall find you your way back." I opened a mouth to speak, and he forestalled me with a raised hand. "If I cannot, nor Lord Elrond, nor the Instari help you, I shall travel the length and breadth of Arda until I find he or she who can." 

I closed my mouth, recalling Elrond's comments about accepting others' help, and did not protest further. For the moment. 

I just hoped it really wouldn't take quite that much effort for them to find a way back for me. In his present state of mind, I could see Temeril somehow finding his way to the Undying Lands, then further to Manwe's doorstep, then rapping loudly, demanding assistance... 

I also found myself wondering if this lad were related to Feanor somehow. Perhaps a long, long distant cousin, several times removed? 

At that moment, I really would not have been be a _bit_ surprised. 

***** 

That afternoon, Temeril told me he was going to give me a lesson on how to 'shield' myself. Apparently, how to keep my thoughts from being 'heard' by just anybody. 

I gave him a sickly smile. "But I'm just a human. Why do _I_ need to...?" 

I faltered as he just looked calmly at me. It was now that I looked back over the past week, recalling the times I'd 'picked' up things from the elves around me, how at others I'd been aware that something was going around, but not what... 

My smile faded. "What...what have I been doing?" I sat, vaguely anxious, rrecalling my 'conversations' with Elrond, Gandalf's somewhat snippy comment about me and my emotions... 

"Oh." I slumped, closing my eyes for a moment. Then opening them resignedly. "I've... I've been spewing all over the place, haven't I...?" 

"Not...'spewing'..." He was amused by my chosen metaphor. "But among we who mind-talk, it is custom to preserve a...a veil around thoughts we wish to keep private." 

Very pretty description. And I evidentally hadn't been doing that. 

"I didn't... insult anyone...did I?" My imagination leapt into action, and I saw all the elves looking down their noses at me after I'd gone by, spewing off thoughts they found disgusting... 

He shook his head, a faint air of amusement still coming from him. "No...no." He paused, then added, tartly as my eyes narrowed, "Sarah...you know I do _not_ mock you." I glanced shiftily away. I knew that...my mood was just turning sour. For some reason. 

"As milk left too long in the pan," he agreed briskly, and I looked quickly back at him. "Do you wish to be able to keep private what you wish private?" he asked, his own brows rising slightly. _Or not?_

Well, when he put it that way... I shifted sullenly where I sat, cross-legged on the grass of a favorite corner of a walled garden, and nodded. He smiled. 

"Then attend me. It is not truly difficult." 

And fortunately...it was not. 

***** 

I was feeling quite accomplished a little later that afternoon, as I strolled with Temeril back towards the House, my embarrassment over my human lack of mental control tempered by the knowledge that I need not be so open ever again. 

I also felt calm and quiet. With Temeril I felt the least self-conscious I ever did, there in that strange but lovely place. With perhaps Bilbo in second place in the list of those I felt comfortable around. 

It may be a cliche' to say he felt most like a 'brother'...but he did. His support and company...I had come finally to accept with good grace. 

We rounded one wing of the House, just in time to see a party of travellers riding their way up the path on their way to the stables. 

I halted, blinking, as I saw a familiar-looking cloak-shrouded and hatted gray figure, another tall male, dark-haired... 

...And four small figures on ponies. 

I turned to look at Temeril. "They made it." I grinned. "He even managed to bring them all." I turned back to watch, just in time to see one of the smaller figures lean forward briefly, then sit up as the other hobbit closest to him urged his pony forward. Something odd there... 

"The halfling has been injured," Temeril said quietly next to me. "See; he favors his left arm..." 

'But...he can't have been..." I blinked again. 'Temeril, it's only the first week of May. Gandalf got them here; they're safe. He can't have been..." 

"We shall soon learn all." Temeril was urging me gently inside. He was right; time enough later to find what had happened. 

We went in to await the new guests. 

**~End Part 7~**


	8. Part 8

**The Dream - Part 8**   


by Bex 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   


It had been agreed that my role in the Ringbearer's 'early' arrival (_But was it? Really? Or was this just the way it now was? And the other tale now a false one?_) would be kept discreet for now. So, far as the Hobbits would know, Temeril and I were just two no-bodies who happened to be there as they stepped wearily and saddle-sore into the main hall, to be welcomed graciously by the Lord of Imladris, then led off to their rooms by serenely courteous elven servants. 

At least, the Hobbits tramped off readily enough, with the one I guessed was Sam fussing over one who would of course be Frodo. The two men lingered: Gandalf, and the man with him, who was none other than... 

"Estel...Welcome back." Elrond warmly greeted him, then the wizard. Yes, Elrond had been a Foster father of sorts to him, I recalled. Oh, good Lord, and then Aragorn'd gone and-- 

It was about then that I was quite grateful I'd at long last been taught rudimentary mind-shielding, and had mine in place. If there was a time to have it...it was _now_. 

I gulped inwardly and decided we'd seen enough - it was time to sidle off. Before Temeril and I could retreat, though, Elrond's voice called to us. 

"Lady Sarah...Temeril...we who are here will all meet together in two hour's time in the map room. Further counsel is now necessary." 

We both nodded. 

Three sets of keen eyes looked in our direction. Gandalf must have guessed, regarding our curiosity. 

"Events...have already...begun to change," he added quietly. 

I nodded again, my heart sinking. Despite the fact that all had safely arrived at Imladris...I could tell that he didn't mean 'change' in a good way. 

_Oh, dear._

***** 

Under scrutiny again. 

Elrond and Gandalf, and Elrond's advisory staff (or so I'd labled them) seemed to trust me...but to the heir of Isildur, I was a new curiosity. He sat, bathed and changed from his travel-worn clothing to finer garments fit for Elrond's House (or even a King), and peered keenly at me, this 'seer' unbidden, yet dropped into their midst. 

Our formal introduction over, I shifted a little uncomfortably under his gaze. What exactly had he been told? 

What I was about to hear drove my self-consciousness out of my mind but good as Gandalf spoke. 

"Saruman knows of the Ring." 

I blinked. "Well, yes...of course. He knows it exists in general..." 

The Istar's quiet voice forestalled my wittering. "He knew it to be in Frodo's hands." 

For a moment it didn't register. Then I sat up as much as I could in my chair. _**"What?!"**_

I wasn't the only one surprised. My reaction far outstripped the others', though. I sat there, stunned, finally adding, "How do you know this?" 

Aragorn spoke then. "He has men, Southron men stationed in Bree, the other settlements surrounding the Shire. We Rangers had been noting their movement into the area all this early Spring." He paused. "I happened to be in Bree a fortnight back, and noticed an especially large number of them there, many staying at the Pony. They said they were seeking trade with the Southfarthing, in pipeweed." 

He paused. "A few days later, Nob told me several who had stopped at the Pony that very day had also mentioned the name Frodo Baggins, and inquired after the most direct route through the Shire. I took note of that, and it was well I did...for I met with Gandalf there later that very evening, against all expectation, as I did not hope to see him again until mid-summer, by his reckoning." 

Gandalf took up the tale at this point. "When I heard that, we both made to Hobbiton with great haste, riding without pause. As it was, we were barely in time." He paused. 

Damn him for playing story teller and drawing it out! 'Barely in time to do _what?!_" 

"Saruman had sent men to find Frodo. And the Ring. We arrived to find Frodo under attack that very hour - by two Ruffians from among those sent by Saruman. One had just wounded him with a knife; Frodo later told us how he'd returned to his hole that evening to find them ransacking it. Searching for something. When he confronted them, they attacked him." 

I gawped. "So he was wounded by _them_, not--" 

Aragorn nodded. "A more ...ordinary sort of wound. Made by an ordinary blade. Fortunate...despite all." 

"And he still had the--?" 

Both men nodded. "As I said...verily in the nick of time did we arrive." 

It sounded as if Gandalf might have filled Aragorn in on some of the details of what-might-have-been. What might-still-be? 

Oh, good _Lord_...this was going to tie my brain in knots. 

"What happened to them?" 

"They fought unusually fiercely...for mere 'thieves'. One I was forced to slay. The other escaped, though, I would say, gravely wounded. Fortunately, Frodo's wound was not life-threatening - we dressed it and left that very night." 

I was still focused on the main issue. "My God...he knows...somehow he knows. _How?_" 

All glances fastened on me. Not from suspicion. Perhaps hoping I'd have a ready answer to this new twist? Far from it. 

My mind reeled. What Saruman knew, Sauron, defacto, did... Except for the fact that in the original story, the head of the White Council had kept his share of secrets from the dark lord he'd allied himself to. Or at least had tried to. Therein might lie some hope... 

Either from his natural astuteness or due to my still new shielding, Gandalf again seemed to guess my general thoughts. "If Sauron knew of the Ring in as much detail as Saruman seems to...we would likely have already been lost. He would not, I think, have hesitated to send in the Nine the moment he knew." I nodded nervously. "These were only Southrons in the service of Saruman." 

"How were you so sure of this...?" 

Gandalf's eyes glinted slightly. "We asked one man, the one wounded mortally. Ere he died. He spat at us, cursed us, and told us 'Sharkey' would see us paid for our deed." 

We all sat, sober. Saruman's nickname among his people. It seemed fairly obvious. Saruman knew what he ought not to have known yet. The 'story' had already changed. 

And there was no telling where it might go now. 

I fancied I felt their gazes returning to me, as I sat, refusing to make eye contact with any of them. 

"It's changed, " I told them, rather unneccesarily. "This wasn't supposed to happen." I imagined Elrond was about to comment with one of his common sensical rejoinders and hurriedly interjected, "I know; it's the story _now_." I shook my head helplesly. "I have no idea what's going to happen now. No real idea." 

I sat there, my mind limping in circles. _I did this. I changed the story, and now it's changing all over._

_What have I done?_

As it turned out, had we all known then the reason why Saruman knew the specifics regarding the Ring so early on in the 'story'...we'd have scarce slept easier. 

Rather less so, in fact. 

***** 

Now, Imladris was practically crawling with non-elvish guests. Or so it seemed to me, after a couple of weeks of being the only human there. 

I kept running into the Hobbits especially, passing them in corridors with a smile and a nod. I hadn't been introduced formally, and thus was merely another inhabitant of Imladris as far as they knew, and it was a real treat to be seen as a 'regular' by someone newer than me. 

That illusion lasted for about two days...until I discovered that Bilbo had ratted me out. 

I was sitting under the apple tree in the south simples garden, dreaming while still awake, something I still did occcasionally. Though fortunately not to the extent that I had earlier that week. 

I was resting, eyes closed, legs straight, my grey-blue skirt spread neatly out, my back against the trunk. Above me pink buds were poised, just on the brink of bursting open. 

Somewhere nearby, a robin who had been piping energetically stopped. I heard nothing obvious, but still felt the faintest sense of presence, and so, opened my eyes. Before I could turn my head to look, though, someone said apologetically: 

"I'm not disturbing you, I hope..." 

I looked. It was Frodo, hands casually in breech pockets, rolled shirt sleeves, touseled hair and wide eyes. That fair innocent, that sacrificial boy-man... 

I shook myself inwardly. _Stop it; he's a grown man among his people. A Country Squire, not a completely feckless youth._

He smiled uncertainly, and I realized that due to my wool-gathering he did not yet know my disposition. I smiled. "Hello," I said. 

He seemed to relax a trifle, moving forward a few feet, then stopping and bowing slightly. "Frodo Baggins at your service, Lady Sarah." 

I winced, and his smile faltered. "I am sorry, I did not mean to offend-" 

I hastened to reassure him. "No, it is I who must apologise - the fault is not yours..." We both dithered, uncertain, awkward, and I hurried to break the stalemate - more than a few such moments were too many. "You must forgive me - the title of 'Lady' does not suit me. But the fault is mine alone." 

More silence. Oh, this was _awful_. 

My mouth twisted, as I glanced down, and then up again. 'Might we start this over again?" 

For a moment he wasn't certain what I meant, then caught my meaning, his own wry smile tugging at his face. "If you wish." 

I smirked. "I do." Brushing off my skirt, I shifted position to kneel before him so that we were roughly face-to-face - he a little taller than I as I knelt - and extended my hand. "Among my people, the custom is thus: to clasp hands as we greet each other." 

Peering at my pro-offered hand, he readily extended his, his own smile widening. "And what then?" 

Our right hands clasped, and I gently moved them up and down. "We shake them slightly, like so. This shows we will not attack each other." 

"And?" 

"We greet. Hello, Mister Baggins. I am Sarah Deckker - I'm very pleased to meet you." 

"We say, 'Frodo Baggins, at your service and your family's.'" He paused solemnly, then grinned. "But I am also pleased to meet you, Sarah." 

Oh, this fellow had some charm, all right. I grinned back, my brows raising. "Well, I would offer my service to you and family also...but I would first have to know what that involves." 

He chuckled. "It means you'd better expect to have the whole lot of us to tea the next time we're in the neighborhood. Best dishes, too." 

We let go of each other and I smiled wryly. "Might be a bit difficult. I'm a bit far from home." 

"So it's true, what my uncle said, then..." 

I glanced away momentarily, sitting back on my haunches. "What did he tell you?" 

"That you hailed from a far land, had come with timely warnings of Saruman's treachery..." 

I winced, this time only inwardly. Already the story was getting bandied about...though not quite in the way I'd feared. This was not bad at all. I could live with this version quite nicely. 

"From a far land, yes. I had...heard of danger to you." I paused and looked at him again. "Because of what you carry." 

He gazed back at me, gone solemn now. "That's why I came to find you. To thank you for the warning. Had not Gandalf and Aragorn known to come aid me, I might have been killed, what I was entrusted with taken." 

I nodded. "You're very welcome." 

His expression shifted again, a shade towards bemused/amused. "Another saying from your land?" 

I smiled. 'Yes." 

We both dithered a bit, and he moved restlessly. I wondered if his wound, even though not born of a morgul's malice, still bothered him. "I'm truly sorry if I offended...when I greeted you at first..." he said quietly. 

I waved a dismissive hand. "They keep using that with me, I suppose it is customary; I ought not to dislike it. It's just...in my land...I am not a 'Lady'." I shrugged. "I simply am not." 

Frodo smiled sympathetically. "They take a bit of getting used to, don't they? Sometimes so very formal. As if...as if they _live_ the songs we can only listen to, and try to remember. But I daresay... they do not use such names without cause." 

I felt my awkwardness returning. He saw it, I think, for he smoothly disengaged himself then, spoke of meeting up with his companions, inquired if I would be at the feast being held that night? Perhaps I might meet the rest of them then? 

I smiled politely, my mind in a funk. Feast? Had I missed something? But I nodded. Of course. I would see them then. 

Frodo extended his hand then, his brows raising just the slightest in expectation. I couldn't suppress a smirk and shook my head slightly as I gave him a hearty good-bye shake. The engaging rascal had a mischevious grin on his face again. 

I watched him stroll away, his hands back in pockets, and shook my head again. Not quite the way I'd expected to meet the famous Mister Frodo Baggins. 

Then again, he wasn't quite famous yet... _was_ he? 

**~End Part 8~**


	9. Part 9

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   


A/N: I've now run out of pre-written 'backlog' - gonna be a longer wait now in between upcoming installments. How long I cannot say; I'll aim for no less than weekly updates, more if possible. I am after all, forging ahead into the wilds of AU Country.... ^_^ 

All Comments and Constructive Criticisms cheerfully accepted! What was it eveyone around here always sez: Oh yeah - R & R! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

**The Dream - Part 9**   


by Bex 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   


"_You_ told him where to find me, didn't you?" 

Temeril understood the reference in my half-hearted accusation instantly. Elven brows raised. "Should I have not?" 

I schlumped down onto the bench next to where he sat at work at his latest parchment, as if I were determined to contrast his natural elven grace and poise as much as possible, and made a little _moue_. 'Oh, it doesn't matter. I suppose. It's just...awkward to have famous people coming up to you and thanking you just because you knew something they didn't." 

"Really? _I_ find that not so." 

I pulled another face at him, which he ignored in favor of adding an ornamentation to one letter. I quieted to watch him work for several minutes as he completed an ornate Quenyan capital then sat up straight again, exuding an air of satisfaction. 

"I may be losing it again," I said then, lightly. "What's this about there being a feast tonight? I don't recall anything about it." 

He'd turned his head to look at me, frowning as he puzzled out one of my rare colloquialisms. At the mention of _feast_ he brightened. "Several envoys from other lands have arrived." 

Oh. Politics and war-planning. I shifted uncomfortably on the bench, which was ironic, as my 'knowledge' had put me squarely in the midst of all this; had inititated this, months ahead of the 'original' time line of the War of the Ring. 

Well, that didn't mean I _liked_ it. 

Well... All right; I'd liked giving in to the impulse to reveal what I knew of the War of the Ring - before it happened. 

I just wasn't sure I wanted to be around when it actually _happened_. Especially as events - both minor and rather major - had already been altered from how they'd occured in Tolkien's tale. And war was drawing nearer every day. 

_**Why** did I do this again?_

Temeril was gazing at me, his writing implements laid down and forgotten. "Do you yet doubt what you have done?" he asked quietly. "Do not do so." 

I nodded. "I know. I must...'keep faith with what I have done', as they keep telling me. As _you_ keep telling me." I hunched a bit, suddenly chilled, then looked up as the bench shifted and a shadow fell over me. 

Temeril finished shaking out one of the lighter Spring cloaks that he kept there, and swung it around to rest on my shoulders. As its soft woolen weight settled down over me, I glanced up with an absent smile. "Thank you." 

"If the worst happens, though, I'll know," I murmured on in the same absent manner, "it'll have been my fault..." 

"Sarah--!" Temeril was more frustrated than angry. "Are you a Valar, to know all, control all? Even _they_ in sooth do not do so. We are told that only Eru has that power." 

"No. But I interfered." 

"But not by chance." 

I sent him a hooded look. "You're a fine one to talk, after all the time you spent angsting about having brought me here." 

He smiled ruefully, acknowledging the barb. "Perhaps I begin to believe, as you said earlier, that t'was indeed meant to be. Not that I will not fulfill my vow," he added quickly. 

Very big on fulfilling vows, these Elves were. In his case, to eventually send me back whence I had come. Which was only fair, as he'd drawn me there in the first place. 

"I'm scared." It slipped out, could not be undone, so I wittered onwards. "I don't belong here. I may have ruined everything. What if we lose? What if everybody dies--?" 

I'd started rocking back and forth on the bench. But was halted as Temeril gently pulled me up and into a chaste but intensely comforting hug. 

It certainly had the effect of shutting me up. I stood, my head against his chest, and listened to his quiet voice murmuring, until the worst of the black tide inside me had receeded once again. 

***** 

There was indeed a feast in the House that night - and I did finally meet all the hobbits together in one place. Temeril and I sat next to the hobbit group, and introductions were made all around. 

I suspect that to them, I was just another example of the strangeness that was the big folk; I in turn watched them talking, looking around, but mostly eating heroically (they _were_ after all, hobbits) but all of them inevitably focused on, turning back towards Frodo, the linchpin of that unlikely group. 

He was a gentleman scholar of sorts (if not ever quite up to Bilbo's level), a man of diffident charms, the slightly more wordly cousin leading his friends on the journey of a lifetime. 

He bore it easily, smiling, glancing from side to side, helping himself to the food being offered. If the Ring, if his comrade's expectations weighed on him....it did not show. 

Yet. 

To my right, Temeril quietly pointed out the various envoys. Several wood elves, high elves, dwarves and men sat among the usual worthies of Imladris, partaking of the Lord of Imladris's hospitality. 

As it turned out, some of the guests were familiar - Gloin and Gimli had come, as had Thranduil's son, Legolas. Gondor had sent... Faramir. I sat there, blinking, as Temeril carried on with his list. It was then I realized that this story was never again going to run quite 'true to the book'. 

It was a profoundly disorientating moment. 

I blinked again, and found I'd missed part of Termeril's explanation - Lorien had sent someone: surprise of surprises, a fair-haired female elf accompanied by retinue - apparently an aide of the Lady Galadriel, named Anatuil. There was no one there from Rohan - Grima Wormtongue's poison well at work, it had been sadly guessed. But two additional envoys were there whom I had not at all expected: Bale, a tall, hale fellow, and great-grandson of the bowman who'd slain Smaug above Dale... and Halbeorn, the rather imposing and bearded son of the current leader of the Boernings, the woodsmen from the lands between the Misty mountains and Mirkwood, bordering the old forest road. And who, it was rumored, were shapechangers. Most curious indeed! It was, I was told, the first time one from either land had ever visited Imladris in an official capacity. 

But the current crisis demanded it. Just as in Tolkien's tale, those seeking the counsel of the Wise had been drawn, unbidden, to Imladris. If ever there was a time for representatives of the free peoples to come together and plan...it was now. 

Mine was not the only measuring glance roving that evening. Several times I saw some among the newcomers gazing my way, probably indulging in their own curiosity regarding their hosts and fellow guests. 

They would, I decided, see an ordinary woman, part-way to middle-age. And above all, outstandingly average. Who'd found her way here, among these worthies merely by chance, her 'widsom' the accident of displacement, not the lore of many hard-won years. 

I glanced aside at Temeril. He was a bit out of place himself, I supposed - I didn't get the impression he normally attended that many feasts. His own connection to me, his 'mistaken' magicking of me had drawn him out of his ordinary circle as well. 

Ah, well. I sighed inwardly. _When in Imladris_... I reached for another serving from the platter passing by - I'd discovered it was best to get mine before it got near the hobbits to my left. 

Whatever else I was... I was a fairly quick learner. 

***** 

After Dinner many of the guests repaired to the Hall of Fire - an extra-large living room of sorts - if a living room had benches instead of couches, and was big enough hold dozens of guests at a time - and had roving performers who were prone to spotaneous bursts of entertainment, both merry and somber. The fires burning merrily in the hearths at each end of the hall were definitely welcome - it was still a fairly cool Spring. I sat near Temeril and watched fair folk of all descriptions as they roamed in and out at will. 

I was restless, and I knew he knew it. Not due to breached mental shields, nor leaking emotions - which I had a fairly good grasp of now - but because my body language showed it plainly. I sat stiffly, my hands clasped tightly in my lap, glancing about at the various guests. I was unnerved not by the crowd, or because so many were strangers...but due to what this gathering ultimately meant, my thoughts as always of late leaping ahead to the dark unknown. 

One of our guests pulled apart from the mingling groups and approached us. It was Faramir, tall, dark and serious-eyed. "Greetings, my Lord, my Lady," he said, smiling. I smiled back and inclined my own head automatically. 

It was Temeril he wanted to see, as it turned out - the scholarly bent of the second son of the Steward of Gondor had led him to seek permission of Imladris's young conservatist in order to examine some of the documents in his care while he visited here. 

Temeril would be pleased enough to help, I knew, and I was soon smiling as he and Gondor's envoy began animatedly talking shop. 

Their conversation started to get technical, and I glanced away, my gaze and mind wandering as it so often did in that place... 

"Lady Sarah." 

Someone was claiming my attention. I blinked and glanced to my left to see Gandalf standing there. A jolt of adrenaline woke me in a hurry. 

"Your pardon; I did not mean to startle." 

I smiled forgivingly, if a tad distantly, in the way I'd perfected in the couple of weeks I'd spent there - from imitation of the elves around me. 

"Council will be convened tommorrow, late morning, in the Map-room. After Breakfast, a bell will summon all." I looked back at him blankly as he inclined his head and prepared to move away, then realized: he was going about the hall, informing the participants. They expected _me_ there. Still. 

I was so surprised that instead of stewing over this oddity, I blurted out: "Even though I no longer know the ultimate shape of this... Adventure we all face?" 

Bushy brows rose slightly. "You possess a keen enough mind, and even one who no longer knows 'all' may help discern patterns of import or probabilities." 

I hid my surprise then the best I could. "I...see. Erm, yes, I shall be there." 

He smiled politely and withdrew. And I was struck then by the realization... They thought me smart and evidentally trustworthy enough - to be there. Irregardless of 'what' I 'knew'. 

I suspect I may have had a silly little smile on my face off and on for the rest of the evening. 

**~End Part 9~**


	10. Part 10

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   


A/N: So much for 'updating weekly'. Lost 'The Flow' of the story. Sorry!! But here's finally another chapter. *sheepish shuffle* 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

**The Dream - Part 10**   


by Bex 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   


The next day dawned, grey, wet, and raw. It certainly fit my mood, sombered as it was by the prospect of heavy discussion and decisions that might end up governing the fate of all the free peoples of Middle Earth. 

And maybe that of the non-free as well. 

Temeril and I arrived early. I sat with tense politeness, hands folded. Other people began to drift in, some shooting sidelong, curious glances at me. Slowly the seats filled in: elves, men, dwarves, hobbits. One Wizard. 

Elrond sat at the table's head, as befitted his position. Outside, a bell with a golden, burnished tone tolled several times, exhorting all last minute stragglers to hurry to the hall. 

Quiet conversation rose in murmurs from the attendees. I watched Elrond and saw him stir, as if about to call the meeting to order, and-- 

The door burst open, and a tall figure in multiple woolen layers of earthy browns stood on the threshold, a staff in hand. Behind him an elf could be seen peering over his shoulder, dismay clearly written all over his features. 

All eyes turned to goggle as the man exclaimed, "I have arrived just in time! I bring vital news from the head of the White Council!" 

I gawped in shock and dismay at the manic figure. Who the hell was _this_?! 

At the head of the table, Elrond rose smoothly, as if this sort of interruption were an everyday occurrence in his hall. "Salud, Olorin," he said calmly. "Will you join us then in our council?" 

_And stop being such a damned drama queen_, I thought. To my left, Gandalf blinked and shot a glance my way before turning his attention back to the newest arrival, greeting him with a solemn nod. 

"Who is that??" I hissed sidelong to Temeril. 

"That is Olorin, one of the Istari. Also known as Radagast the Brown." 

"Ah. Never would have known." 

Gandalf's colleague was seated in an available chair near the head of the table, and the Council of Elrond began. 

***** 

I had forgotten that not everyone there was aware of Saruman's traitorous turn, so only a few among us had evinced any visible dismay at Radagast's declaration that he came as Saruman's official messenger, and that was, I hoped, easily explained away as simple surprise at his sudden entrance. 

The Istar sat, peering curiously round at his fellow attendees. As his glance alighted on me, it paused. _Ulp_. My mental 'shields' were in place, I knew they were. _Move along; nothing to see here,_ I inwardly cajoled. His gaze moved on and I relaxed somewhat. Next to me, I felt a hand find and grasp mine briefly in reassurance, and I smiled over at Temeril. Then I saw Radagast staring again, this time at Frodo and Bilbo, and I winced. The books had him as an unwitting dupe - hopefully that was the case here as well. 

"It is no coincidence that has brought us all here today, unbidden." 

All eyes were on Imladris's lord. 

"The Dark Lord Sauron daily gathers strength in Mordor, and prepares his forces to once again attempt to gain utter dominion over the free peoples of Middle Earth." 

It was a bold statement, but I liked it. Short, sweet, and to the point. But there was a pause, and our newest arrival stepped into the gap. 

"Saruman, Head of the White Council, sends his greetings, and also council regarding this very situation, " Radagast said. He paused, as if for dramatic emphasis. "The One Ring of Sauron has been found." 

If he was expecting massive surprise, he was disappointed. A few faces at the table were what could be best described as 'disturbed'. The rest were poker faces. An odd few were blank. Radagast glanced 'round before continuing. 

"It's location has been found, by his studies and arts, and as I'm sure you can all appreciate, it must not be regained by its maker." 

"Indeed," Gandalf intoned solemnly. I saw Elrond send a quick look at Bilbo and Frodo where they sat, as Bilbo moved restlessly, then quieted. Gandalf sent a bristly-browed glance at his colleague, and Radagast answered the unspoken question. 

"Alas, the extent of his knowledge was that it passed into the hands of those known as the Haflings," the Brown wizard admitted. "He adjured me to speed to their land with all haste to retrieve it, lest agents of the Enemy should find it." 

Gandalf smiled faintly. "Then your search will not have been in vain, old friend. For we have it, here." The rest of us who were 'in the know' exchanged glances. Maybe he was all right, then, after all. Just mislead, as in Tolkien's story. 

Radagast didn't exactly gape...but his eyes glimmered. "What wonder is this, that you already hold that which the head of the White Council has only just learned of?" 

"A lucky chance, a destined meeting. In any case, such has been our luck that we have found the One Ring, safe in the keeping of one Hafling. Frodo, bring the Ring forth!" 

And slowly, reluctantly, self-consciously...he did. Drew the golden ring from his waistcoat pocket. Laid it in the center of the polished table. Stepped back and re-seated himself. 

And to get everyone there up to speed...Elrond began the history of the Ring. 

***** 

As you can imagine, relating the history of the One Ring took a while. These were a people who took oral history very seriously; written scrolls were only piece-meal 'backups'. 

No, oral recitals were pre-eminent, and couldn't be rushed. 

I'm embarrassed to say that I drifted off a bit. Not because the history was boring, for it really wasn't...but because the very manner of the delivery had a sing-song, almost hypnotic quality to it. And by drifting off I mean into reverie. A variation on the 'waking dreams' I still had occasionally. I simply still was not accustomed to the story-telling style... 

A hand suddenly squeezed mine lightly and I _blinked_, sitting up straighter in my chair. The delegates were moving, chairs scraping back, people starting to move about the room. 

Next to me, elvish eyes laughed as Temeril regarded me. "What?" I mumbled somewhat crossly. 

"Now is the time for the midday repast," he observed, smiling. "I would not have you sle--" He paused as I held up a warning finger. 

"_Don't_ say it," I grumbled. "I'm back, I'm here. I was _not_ sleeping." 

He smirked. "That I could tell. Unlike us, you do _not_ sleep with your eyes open." 

I subsided, somewhat mollified. "I just got...lost in the words, is all." He nodded, suddenly serious. "I know. Such is the skill of a master story-teller such as Lord Elrond." 

Fair enough. 

***** 

Sated with the quality output of the kitchens of Elrond's house, we delegates re-converged in the hall a couple of hours later. Someone had stirred up a fine fire in the fireplace, and I resisted the temptation go curl up on a stool next to it, and drowse away the afternoon as sonorous voices spoke of brave tales of the distant past... 

All right; not so distant past. It was now time to tell of the recent adventures of the Ring, and those who'd borne it. 

Aragorn spoke of the capture of, and the knowledge gained from Gollum. Legolas sadly revealed Gollum's escape from the wood elves. Gandalf told of his own recent researches in Gondor, how he'd become suspicious regarding the true nature of Bilbo's ring, and hastened back West to warn Frodo, and test it. 

I squirmed minutely in my seat, suddenly acutely self conscious. _PleaseleavemeoutofitPleaseleavemeoutofitPleaseleavemeoutofit_ I chanted inwardly. Elrond canted a glance in my direction. 

_I cannot. You are part of the story, now...for good or ill. And you have your part to tell_

Not unkind. But firm. He was not going to be the one backing down here. Adrenaline flooded me as I realized I wasn't getting out of _this_ one. 

Gandalf finished his tale and turned, along with the several others who knew of my involvement, to look at me expectantly. _Your turn._

I swallowed nervously, opened my mouth to speak, then closed it again. 

What was I supposed to say regarding Saruman? How would I word this? With Radagast sitting, quite imposing in his own woodsy, shaggy brown way, just across the table from me? Why would anyone else truly believe what I said, that I was from another plane of existence, that I knew better than they about what went on in Middle Earth? 

I got no hints or cues from anyone, just calm expectancy. 

They were leaving this up to me. To my judgement. 

I opened my mouth again, and began to speak. 

**~End Part 10~**


	11. Part 11

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   


A/N: _*Blushes and digs sneaker toe in dirt, self-consciously gratified*_ Well, dangit... ^_^ Got a bit of momentum back, so here's another section. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

**The Dream - Part 11**   


by Bex 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   


By now, I'd honed the story of how I'd come to Arda down to a compact paragraph, similar to what Frodo had mentioned he'd heard. About how I was drawn here, seemingly by 'accident' of magic, knowing a tale of this land told by my people. And how, becoming aware that it was still unfolding here, had chosen to speak of my worries to Gandalf and Elrond. 

A few eyebrows raised, a few glances to and fro, but no-one protested. I felt myself relax somewhat as Gandalf re-took up the narrative, then Frodo, with Aragorn adding a few details, as they told of what had happened next. 

It was not until Aragorn tersely spoke, with a quick glance aside at Radagast, of their discovery of who they'd discovered attacking Frodo that someone interjected. 

Surprisingly, it was not Saruman's envoy, but Galadriel's. "Might you have been mistaken?" 

Aragorn regarded her gravely. "I wish that it were so, my lady. But my ears heard clearly." 

"In the midst of combat, even so?" 

"I was there also," Gandalf reminded her. "It is as he said." 

Radagast's brows were drawn together. Understandably so. He had held his peace until then, but now he spoke. "On the basis of one word, on one incidence of ruffians accosting peaceful dwellers, you cast this suspicion on the head of our order, the leader of the White Council?" He rose to his feet for emphasis. "What madness is this?!" One thing Istari were good at was making themselves heard. I felt myself shrink in my seat. 

Anatuil looked over at me. "There is more to this than just what happened in the land of the Haflings," she observed. As she continued to stare, the other delegates looked curiously over at me again as well. 

_Eeep._

Would you think me crazy if I said it seemed to me was not merely Anatuil 'staring' at me from across the table? But also someone else, a very strong will, examining me with a wary curiosity? 

Perhaps you wouldn't. 

My choice. To cringe, to flee in some fashion like an accused child, passing the buck...or stand up for my perceptions, my 'knowledge'. 

I sat up again and returned her gaze. Or, as I said, in a way I knew but didn't articulate properly until later... _their_ gazes. "Among my...'warnings'... Was that in the tale as we know it, Saruman craved the Ring for his own use. And communicated with Sauron. He was allied to Sauron." 

Cat was out of the bag _now_. I deliberately folded my hands in front of me on the polished table top as voices rose in a murmur of discontent around me. My eyes were still on Anatuil as she blinked and I saw that impression of 'doubleness' in her gaze recede. 

_"Impossible!"_ boomed Radagast. "Mithrandir, do not tell me you believe this!" 

"Entirely possible!"Gandalf shot back. "You know the temptation such a thing as this Ring would pose to any of us!" His voice softened then. "I like this little more than you do, old friend." He glanced around. "But for the moment, until we know more, we must treat Saruman with the utmost caution." 

The Brown wizard cast an angry glance at me. I almost flinched again, even as I felt Temeril next to me glaring back, but I managed to hold my ground and meet the Istar's disbelieving look. "I'm sorry," I said. "But that is what our tales told. And it seems to have been confirmed." 

"Was what occurred in the land of the Halflings according to your 'tales'? Anatuil asked then. A sharp one, that lady. Of course, one would not expect the person attending on behalf of the Lady Galadriel to be any less. 

I hesitated, considering how best to reply to this. But in the end, there was only one correct answer. "No. Actions meant to occur later this year happened more recently...and no Southrons attacked Frodo in our tales." 

A delicate brow rose slightly. "Then it seems that your 'tale' is already no longer 'true'." 

There was a pause as everyone around the table digested that. 

I saw Galadriel's envoy sending glances Elrond's and Gandalf's way. I could just imagine the content, too: _And you're still taking her counsel be**cause**?_

And a voice suddenly spoke up. "I am alive, here today, with this 'Ring', because of the Lady Sarah's 'tale'." 

It was Frodo. He glanced around at the perturbed and confused faces. "Had she not told us of what she knew, so that Gandalf and Aragorn didn't come to find me, the Ring might be gone, who knows where?" He sent a look my way, looking somewhat apologetic. (I found out later that was for forgetting and using 'Lady'.) "For that alone I do thank her." 

"And in that we are all fortunate...but that does _not_ prove Curunir has turned traitor!" Radagast growled, and the debate swirled off again. I put my head in my hands. 

It was going to be a _looong_ afternoon. 

***** 

Not too long after, though, we saw the glimmerings of light on the horizon. So to speak. 

"Peredhil, do _you_ agree with this assessment?" Radagast asked. He seemed to be gradually winding down. I glanced up, the thought finally occurring to me that the Istar had his share of denial to work through. He had, after all, come here on Saruman's behest, all gung-ho for his mission. 

Had to be kind of embarrassing. 

All eyes turned to Elrond. "I agree that Lady Sarah is sincere in what she offers as her truth," he replied diplomatically. "And it seems to have been borne out, at least until the point at which our history recently diverged. It may be...that other elements may remain 'true'. Unpalatable as they be. We _must_ take it all into consideration." 

There was _something_ to Elrond's delivery...his calm way of defusing tension... 

Must be that elvish 'wisdom of ages' thing. 

The fire in Radagast's eyes had dwindled back down to embers, you might say. He had spoken up most passionately in Saruman's defense, though several others had expressed their dismay and doubts. I glanced around. Anatuil looked contemplative. Faramir looked thoughtful and worried, and I could imagine why. Isengard was not that far from Gondor. Flanked... 

I suddenly recalled what his father was likely doing at this time...taking in Sauron's lies, the despair that would ultimately kill that proud, bitter man...at least in the original story. 

I looked away. Time enough for _that_ particular issue later. 

So many people to 'save'...._gods_... 

The envoys from east of the Misty Mountains, from Escaroth and Dale looked a bit more bemused; Saruman and the White Council had been more hearsay to them than a part of their lives. Gloin spoke for them all perhaps, mostly rhetorically, when he asked: 

"Is it settled, then? We do not longer trust the White Wizard? First these envoys of Sauron who appear threatening us, now we have lost another ally?" 

Halbeorn had been silent but watchful though the whole process thus far. "This changes nothing for _us_," he growled suddenly, startling those sitting next to him. "His people were...not welcome in our lands before, but seldom ventured that far." I glanced over at him surreptitiously. I _bet_ they didn't... 

He grinned briefly, a not-nice flash of teeth. "They will remain unwelcome." 

And on that note, the Council was convened until the next day. Now that the 'simple part' was over, Gandalf put it as we all filed out - when I heard that, I resisted my initial impulse, which was to groan - tomorrow we'd get down to the main purpose of this historic meeting. 

Which was: What to do with the One Ring and the pesky Dark Lord who'd made it. 

**~End Part 11~**


	12. Part 12

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   


A/N: UPDATING BINGE THIS WEEKEND!!!!!!!!! 

Just don't get too used to it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

**The Dream - Part 12**   


by Bex 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   


"Thank you." 

Grey eyes regarded me. "For what?" 

I smiled faintly. "For sitting through all that." 

Temeril smiled slightly back. Evening had fallen, the delegates dispersed to their sups and their beds. We continued on down the hall in companionable silence. 

That is, until we turned a corner and almost ran into the imposing figure of Radagast the Brown. 

Well, imposing to _me_. We narrowly avoided a collision, and he shot me a sharp glance as we side-stepped each other, then continued on our way. 

"I don't think he likes me," I muttered to my companion after we'd gone on a bit. 

He glanced at me, startled. 

"I burst his bubble," I continued vaguely. "Shot his chief off the pedestal..." 

Now Temeril was staring at me. "What?" I asked, finally noticing. 

He merely shook his head slightly. I sensed exasperation. 

"No, _what?"_

He sighed. "That is much to read from one glance, from one startled." 

I considered that as we walked. 

"Besides, he knows you not; how could he like _or_ dislike you?" 

_Easily..._

Another glance came my way. "And _if_ he does not? What will you do then?" 

I shrugged inwardly. Same as I always handled that sort of situation: Stay away from him if I could; guard myself around him if I could not. "Then I'll be careful around him." 

He considered that, nodding thoughtfully once. 

The escort back to my quarters resumed in silence. 

***** 

The next day dawned over-cast, with clouds scudding nervously across the sky. But with sunlight peeking through every so often. 

An hopeful omen? 

I decided to take it as such, after my depressive mood of the day before. A day which hadn't even gone that badly, despite the unexpected arrival and heated 'debate' and all... 

My elven friend met me for the habitual escort to breakfast and I glanced aside at him, my mind wandering as I walked, breathing the fresh morning air, hearing the morning birdsong, glimpsing the sky through flickering young leaves... _...Ah, Temeril, Temeril...if only you were human and me home and you still by my side..._

And the realization of what I was thinking punched me in the gut and I faltered in my step, closing my eyes for a moment. 

"Sarah? You are all right?" Concern. So right there, so available, so helpful, so damned _caring_... 

I swallowed in a suddenly thick throat and lied. "Yes." 

And he knew I was; I could tell, perhaps it was the way he cautiously craned his head to peer at me as if I were some wild animal who might strike-- 

I couldn't even hide, couldn't even lie to save face to the bastard; he _knew_; could sense it; knew _me_-- 

"No, I'm not all right. And truth tell, it's you. I wish--" 

_--you would go away._

And as he did so often, he heard the unspoken, and stopped, his face suddenly devoid of all expression. 

And I knew that I'd again hurt him very very badly. Face still blank, he said, "As you wish." And turned to go. 

And I felt that punch in the gut again. 

"Temeril!" 

He paused. 

"Come back." When he didn't respond immediately, I added, "Please." He turned back around enough to look at me. 

The tears wanted to come. But I held them back. I held them back. 

I said: "I'm sorry. I felt-- I have no right. I'm sorry." 

I resisted that urge to move closer to him, the one I'd indulged so often recently. In willful denial. Until now. And said, "You've been nothing but kind to me. I'm sorry for the way I've treated you. Can you forgive me?" 

His expression shifted subtly and he nodded, and was opening his mouth when I added, "We'd better get going; we're going to be late for the Council." I turned and began walking briskly. 

"Sarah--" 

I didn't turn around, and in the end he gave up and simply caught up with me as we made our way into the Hall. 

***** 

My troubled heart. 

The irony was that it had much less to do with the matters of weighty import being discussed at this re-convening of the Council of Elrond than one might have expected. 

Figured. In the midst of those deciding the fate of the world, and I was too busy feeling selfishly sorry for myself. 

I shook myself mentally and refocused. 

The Ring, The Ring - ah yes; what to do with that Ring? 

And I found I really didn't have much to contribute to the discussion, after all. The delegates would all have their various says, and in a rather predictable pattern, the major difference being that Faramir could weigh the pros and cons of the issue in a manner his brother had seemed unable to - he could compare 'Destroy it!' versus 'Use it to help Gondor battle the Dark Lord!' in a much less heated manner. He at least had a rudimentary knowledge of the Ring's history, and was more inclined to believe in its sinister influence. 

Even so, he'd briefly suggested a scheme: That without using it, they hold the Ring hostage in Minas Tirith to force Sauron to withdraw from Mordor, but Elrond had shaken his head. 

"It would turn you, Steward and sons," Imladris's Lord had said baldly, then sighed at the brief but unmistakable hurt that had flashed over Faramir's face. 

"I do not offer your family insult, Faramir - truly I do not." He'd paused, perhaps considering a more tactful choice of wording. "The Ring is beyond the control of any save its maker. Heed the tale of Isildur - the time when he might have discarded it was _so_ brief...a flicker, and it was gone. I was there; I saw. He was thereafter ruled by it...and destroyed by it. As you all heard here yesterday." 

And Faramir had finally nodded his understanding. 

He'd also seemed a bit less put out by the revelation that the relatively scruffy Ranger was the Heir to Isildur, which was revealed along the way almost as an afterthought. He was of course concerned by the ramifications...but he didn't start Alpha-Maleing at Aragorn. 

The relative merits of hiding versus unmaking continued to be debated and I suppressed a yawn. 

"Lady Sarah?" I looked up guiltily. Glorfindal was looking at me, and of course the rest followed suite. "Did you want to say something?" 

Actually, no, but since he'd just put me on the spot-- "Did you think to use the eagles?" 

Looks of bemusment appeared on the faces around me, except for Bilbo, who himself had been nodding as if on the edge of sleep and now seemed awake again, a speculative look on his round face. And Gandalf, who of course saw immediately what I was getting at. 

"You know: Gwahir the Windlord...to take the Ring to Mount Doom." 

Radagast looked both faintly amused and scandalized at the same time. "One does not 'use' the giant eagles - they are a sovereign people, sacred to Manwe..." 

I slotted him a Look. "I stand corrected. Ask. Request. Would they _really_ refuse to help destroy the One Ring?" 

I had of course skipped a whole segment of discussion - the bit about exactly how to destroy it. I glanced around. "Unless I missed an alternate method? _Is_ there another way to do it?" 

Gandalf sighed. "Barring dragonfire, none that the Wise know of." 

And of the _un_Wise we'd best not speak, apparently. 

"No other fire mountains? 

Heads around me shook in negation. 

I sighed loudly in frustration as the hammering out of the details continued. 

***** 

"There has _got_ to be a better way. For heaven's sake, I could take it back to my realm and drop it in a volcano there." 

I paused, sheepish. 

"When we figure how to send me back." 

That one earned me several bemused looks, including a sidelong one from Frodo. 

"Well, _Frodo_ could, I mean," I amended quickly. "I'd just be the tour guide." Yes, he had already volunteered, during an especially heated exchange. Another familiar element reproduced. 

"And how would we know it had been destroyed?" an elf asked common-sensically. Cirden the Shipwright, I learned later. "Can we be certain that the Dark Lord would not pursue you, seek it there as well?" 

"We can't be certain of _anything!_" I shot back. 

"Except that destroying it in Oroduin worked. Once. By your own admission." That was Anatuil. 

And there I was... hoist again by my own 'knowledge'. Anatuil had a _really_ Annoying tendency to do that to me. 

To make matters even more Creepy, I could tell that Galadriel was back again, co-seeing out of her envoy's eyes. Not that I could really complain. When one developed various abilities instead of technology...and had magic rings...this was apparently how one managed a conference call. 

But yes, it was Creepy, and no, I didn't make a point of mentioning it. If I'd noticed, surely Gandalf and Elrond had; I assumed it was an acceptable state of affairs. 

"It seems that this is the way it must be done." Elrond was regarding Frodo gravely. 

Frodo looked as gravely back. 

It seemed to be a turning point, an official declaration. Soon would come the choosing of companions for this terrifically dangerous venture. 

I resisted the urge to put my head in my hands. 

**~End Part 12~**


	13. Part 13

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   


A/N: *Tip o' the hat* to all who've reviewed recently, and especially to 'Writer From Rivendell' - Glorfindel is getting his props now...and I _know_ there has to be the elven version of Radagast's name floating around out there somewhere...well, I _hope_ so, cos I wanted to use it. 

Thanks, all...it _is_ nice to know you're enjoying this. ^_^ 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

**The Dream - Part 13**   


by Bex 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   


"This is _insane_." 

It wasn't until I realized everyone was looking at me that I realized I'd spoken those words out loud. I closed my eyes. 

"I beg your pardon?" 

Glorfindel, by the sound of it, slightly off to my left. I opened my eyes again. Next to me I could feel Temeril staring at me. Oddly, the impression I 'got' from him was akin to someone on the verge of semi-hysterical laughter. 

No, wait - maybe that was _me_. 

"I'm sorry. I just am having trouble seeing this working..." I shook my head slightly as I struggled to formulate my distress into a coherent form. "You all seem...fixated on this going to Mount Doom....and in a small group traveling across country...it just..." 

"How else would you have us get there? Even should the eagles agree to help us, we would not ask them to carry anyone all the way from here to Oroduin." Glorfindel seemed honestly puzzled, and I realized sheepishly that I'd reverted to thinking in terms of where I'd come from. Of _course_ they had no choice but to travel in that manner... 

In my mind's eye were arrayed before me the constant hazards of the road to Mordor. How to avoid; how to avoid? 

Then I had it. "I've got it - we tell Saruman what he wants to hear - that a party of travelers is transporting the Ring to him!" 

The air of skepticism in the room was... palpable. Gandalf blinked. Radagast stared at me wide-eyed. Elrond raised one finely-arched eyebrow. 

"No need for him to attack us, we've not let on that we're on to him, so whoever goes can go by way of the Gap of Rohan. While not _actually_ going to Isengard, of course..." 

Anatuil nodded thoughtfully. "The idea has merit. However, what is to keep him from waylaying the Ringbearer even so?" 

I deflated somewhat, then perked up again. "Decoys. Two or more groups of about the same size, each with hobbits in them....force them to thin their forces." 

"Were we...still certain of Saruman's loyalties...we might indeed do as you have suggested..." Gandalf admitted slowly. "Transport the Ring to one as wise in lore as he. He would find that plausible." He looked up from his contemplation, eyes gleaming. "But even if he assumed us gulled, he _would_ likely have us watched along the way. What he might do, once we deviated from our path to him...I cannot say for certain." 

I nodded solemnly. 

"Our only other recourse is to set out in the hopes of avoiding his spies and forces, such as you described them to us," Elrond muttered thoughtfully, fingers steepled. 

"Forces?" Anatuil asked. 

I answered, automatically. "He bred..is breeding...well, probably... a half-man half-orc combination. Can travel by day." Around me the faces of the elves in attendance took on what I can only describe as a 'nauseated' cast. 

"If this is true, then he does indeed do Mordor's work." I glanced over. Legolas, his face twisted. It was then I was reminded of exactly where orcs had come from in the first place...and I repressed my own internal shudder. 

"I shall be your eyes and ears in Isengard." Radagast looked grimly up at us all. "It has been many a year since I stepped foot there for I love it not; Curunir was obliged to send word to me by messenger in order to ask that I came here. But for our sake I shall go there, carry what words you wish him to know. And...confirm if I can... what he may hide there." 

Gandalf looked warmly over at his colleague. "A dangerous errand, my friend...but of us all I think you may be the one to succeed at this particular task. You would also have to leave immediately, in order to act as a harbinger in time to allay his suspicions." 

Radagast nodded. "I shall depart with the morn's light." 

The discussion flowed on, and I sat back for a moment to glance around at the various delegates as the details were hammered out. Who was willing to travel as one of the two groups, who would return home to their people with the information gained during this visit, a journey almost as important as the Fellowships', how to balance out the parties in terms of skills, the exact route... 

And I got that fuzzy optimistic feeling you get at the beginning of a great venture, when it all seems so clever, so possible. This was really starting to come together...this crazy scheme stood a chance. 

_We_ stood a chance. 

***** 

Finally, the two 'Fellowships' - though only one could perhaps be called the 'real' one...had been chosen. 

One change from the original 'story' was that no-one objected to the inclusion of Sam, Pippin and Merry - who had been determined to go in any case, but had expected much more opposition from the 'big folk'. What Pippin and Merry were _not_ thrilled about was being relegated to the status of 'decoys'...until Elrond explained how crucial their role might yet be. How it had to be two pairs of hobbits, as Sam refused to travel with anyone but Frodo. 

After hearing that logic, the two younger hobbits shrugged and accepted their lot with good grace. Travel they'd wanted; travel they'd still get. 

The 'decoy' group consisted mostly of those who were returning to lands to the South, along with Merry and Pippin. Anatuil and her retinue of three Galadhrim guards would offer ample protection, certainly until Lorien had been reached. Faramir would thereafter accompany the two hobbits on his way back to Minas Tirith in order to bring news to his father. Bale was accompanying Faramir and hobbits to Minas Tirith in the hopes of setting up diplomatic relations between Dale and Gondor. 

Gimli had no intention of traveling to any Elven stronghold, especially that of a certain queen rumoured to be a sorceress, and thus insisted in being in the main party that was escorting Frodo and Sam, along with Gandalf, Aragorn, and Glorfindel. As in the original tale, Legolas had also felt moved to join in protecting Frodo, despite his ambivalence regarding dwarves. 

Each group was rather 'elf-heavy'...for a very practical reason, something which had slipped my mind but which Elrond had pointed out during the deliberations: The Nazgul were still out there somewhere, waiting to do their master's bidding. The more elves in each group, especially those such as Glorfindel who'd in the past faced down the Dark Lord's servants, the better. 

Halbeorn was one of those who had no intention of joining in any quest, and instead was returning to his people to bring back news of what had been learned during the Council. Gloin and his small retinue were similarly returning home over the Misty Mountains. 

So there were actually three groups due to be setting out about the same time, though only two would contain the all-important hobbits. 

And of course, none of the three groups contained _me_. 

What, you assumed I'd insist on going with them? 

_Why?_

I was a stranger to this world, I had no travel hardiness, and no skills with the native weapons. 

And this was _much_ too serious a situation for amateurs. 

No, I'd done my bit - pumped my well of information dry for them, as much as I could remember, put forth my best strategic ideas, a few of which they'd actually found useful...and now, I was staying _right_ here, where it was safe. 

Well, least that was what I planned to do. 

But you know what they say about the best laid plans of mice and men... 

**~End Part 13~**


	14. Part 14

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   


A/N: Yes, this _is_ the continuation of the over-all 'Dream' story. Just in the mood to be extra Sinister. Mweh. As well as, yes, offer a tip o' the hat to the _Matrix-verse_. Because one can mix genres in fanfic if one wants. Dontcha know. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

**The Nightmare - Part 14**   


by Bex 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   


The night following the Council of Elrond and the formation of the two Fellowships, Temeril escorted me back to my room, as was our custom. We smiled politely and bid each other good-night, neither bringing up what had happened earlier that day. I retired to my bed, and drifted off to sleep. 

And at long last, I dreamed of home. _My_ home. Earth. 

It was the first time since I'd been pulled into Middle Earth that I did not sleep a deep, dreamless sleep. 

In it, I opened my eyes, and found myself in the familiar surroundings of my darkened bedroom. Curled up in my bed, duvet askew. I lazily, instinctively _streeeetched_, one hand reaching out, clutching the sheet below me... 

A sudden, blaring _screeetch_ assaulted my ears and I jerked upright, my heart thudding into over-drive as I looked wildly around. 

A memory returned. My alarm! 

I scrambled over and slammed the off-button, and blessed silence returned. 

I sat on the edge of the bed, blinking and still shaking with residual adrenaline. 

It was then that I finally realized I was awake. 

***** 

Two hours later, I was still sitting at the kitchen table, head in hands, one of several cups of coffee before me, growing cold. 

That dream-- That dream I'd had-- 

I recorded it, of course. As best I could; it was already starting to fade. As you can see, I remembered quite a lot. 

My thoughts circled obsessively around the dark-haired elf, my escort, the helper from my dream, the one who'd lured me there, as my index finger poked idly at the still most coffee ring left by one of one mug. 

I'd not be forgetting that face, nor that name, anytime soon. 

I laughed inside, self-deprecatingly. Well, who would? Especially someone on her own at the moment? Just a _little_ bit uncertain of herself, just a _little_ bit unsure of the future, just a _little_ bit lonely... 

The perfect dream-male, after all. 

Well...I could always compliment myself on the good taste my imagination had. As opposed to just feeling embarrassed about it all. 

But of course, because he was an 'elf' in the dream, it would never have worked out. 

Couldn't give myself a break, even in my dreams. 

The chair scraaaped back as I pushed away from the table and got to my feet. It was a Saturday, and besides a few errands, I had nowhere to be. But it was no good spending all day stewing over a dream, no matter how realistic it had seemed at certain points. 

A couple of messages on the answering machine that I'd been too tired to check the night before when I'd gotten home from work: one telemarketer offering me a 'free' vacation, a brief note from my mother about an upcoming family function. 

My glance fell on the copy of The Fellowship of the Ring lying on the coffee table nearby as I finished listening and deleted the first message. _This is all **your** fault,_ I silently scolded the book. 

It had nothing to say in its defense. 

I showered and dressed, munched a semi-stale bagel. My grogginess was extreme this morning, but after such a night of detailed dreams, I supposed that was to be expected. I decided not to push myself, and so stayed in a slow, contemplative cast of mind, my mind drifting back, again and again, to images and the vague emotional residue from the dream scenes. 

Especially I recalled the sudden terror I'd felt when I'd realized the...well, _craving_... I'd felt for my elf squire. 

My mouth twisted in rue. _Elf Addict. Sad, but not like you're the first..._ A very popular canvas for one's desires these days, elves were... 

Poor fellows. 

And that train of thought reminded me of online, and e-mail. I plunked myself down at the computer to check. There were a few posts from mailing lists I was on, a friend sending 'round a chain-mail joke... 

I opened and perused one post from a fan-fiction writer's list I was on. Someone kvetching about canon mistakes in one member's story. Just as I was about to delete it, my gaze fell on one sentence. Something about how Radagast hadn't gone to visit Saruman until much later in the story... 

I blinked. Not canon; AU. I clicked the _delete_ button, went on to the next message. A reply to the earlier post. A firm (but polite) rebuttal, quoting verse and even page number. Why, this was just silly; _this_ wasn't the way it'd happened... 

A vague memory of a dream scene flitted back to me, and I swallowed hard, an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach. The Brown wizard, volunteering to go visit Saruman... 

I knew how it'd happened. Radagast had been a bit player, mentioned only in passing. 

I deleted the mails and got off the computer, but now it was gnawing at me. How odd, that they were posting that...had to be misuse of 'canon'. Just an AU discussion. 

I prowled the apartment for a while, doing odd tasks, my circuit taking me closer and closer to the book lying on the coffee table. I had no intention of looking; I just happened to be going by... 

With an inner _snarl_ I paused and snatched up the book. It this was what it took to banish that odd feeling in the pit of my stomach and get on with my weekend, then I'd look! 

I flipped open the cover, past the first few leaves, my gaze falling on the contents, scanning rapidly over it. Everything looked the same; no difference, wait-- 

The chapter names...some of the chapter names were different. 

_Impossible!_ I stared. All the chapter titles after 'A Long Expected Party' were different. Chapter Two was called ' A Mysterious Stranger'. After that, 'Flight to Rivendell', and after that, 'Many Meetings', then 'The Council of Rivendell'....then... 

My vision blurred, and I blinked, then refocused. 'A Betrayal'. I skimmed in growing disbelief. "Attack in Dunland', _then_ 'The Breaking of the Fellowship'... 

_My God..._ I slowly put the book down and backed away. I didn't dare look any further, nor into the chapters themselves. 

"I'm still dreaming." Yes; that was it. All I had to do was wake up. 

"Wake up. WAKE UP!" I pinched myself, hard. 

Nothing happened. 

A sudden fury seized me. "I DEMAND TO **WAKE UP!!!** I shrieked. 

And in that instant, I got the sudden impression, the strongest feeling of being noticed by something I couldn't myself see. 

And it was bad, very bad. I stood frozen, gripped by the sudden urge to flee. To just run, get out. 

Something very _very_ Bad was watching, and while it might not come here, all I knew was that if it did, something very very very _very_ Bad would happen. 

It was a moment of frozen horror. The mouse, already lost, sensing the cat behind her, with paw poised to Play. 

Then it passed, it passed. That Regard turned elsewhere. My knees buckled and I sat heavily onto the couch, which fortunately had been just behind me, and sat, staring. 

"I'm going insane...I've got to wake up!" 

The phone rang suddenly, and I twitched violently, my head whipping around to stare at it. But, I knew I would answer it. I knew, somehow, that it was a message for me... 

My hand slowly reached over, picked it up. Put the headset to my ear. "Yes?" I said, faintly. 

A voice, rich, smooth, faintly accented. No one I recognized. It said: "You have been sent for. Stay where you are!" Peremptuous. Curt. Demanding. 

"I..." I replied, stupidly. "Who are you?" 

"Stay where you are!" it repeated. 

I blinked as the call-waiting tone sounded, and reached slowly to switch to the other call. 

A spate of crackling static met my ear, but within a few moments receded slightly. An urgent voice was on this other line. And I was of course losing my mind, but it sounded like, it reminded me of, I'd swear it was-- 

"Temeril?" I asked, dully. 

The static receded further. He was shouting at me to _flee, now, I was in great danger, spirit-_something, a spate of garble, more static, then more demands that I _flee_-- 

It was the most garbled gobbedlygook I had ever heard. But I knew he was right. I laid the headset down and began that slow, weighted-down movement one always feels in-- 

_--Nightmares--_

I wasn't truly awake; I understood that now. I was trapped in a nightmare, and something bad was about to happen to me. I got up to flee, moving the best I could through that quicksand... 

That was when I glanced over my shoulder and saw the shadowy, rippling, distorted figure, seen as if through water, leaning forward and reaching for me, finger tips just inches from me. 

And I knew that this time, it wasn't Temeril. 

I turned away and tried to lunge forward but it was too late. 

--and the sensation of heat burst around me, fire racing over me, my spirit screaming with utter shock as the figure behind me grabbed me by my shoulders and _yanked_-- 

**~End Part 14~**


	15. Part 15

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

A/N: What _happens_ to our heroine, you ask? 

*giggles madly* 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

**The Nightmare - Part 15**   


by Bex 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   


I probably took longer to wake the second time that someone 'phased' me. 

At least, I think I must have. I think part of me already knew I wasn't waking up to anything pleasant. Knew that I was not in Imladris. 

As I had that first time, I stirred, on my side, and opened my eyes to see someone else's face, right near mine. 

The face was blue-grey, the eyes a feral yellow, the mouth slightly open, revealing darkened fangs. The breath I will not bother to describe. 

All this I took in during the few seconds before I sucked in a _whooop_ of air to shriek and scrambled frantically backwards, only to smack my head against stone behind me. I froze, blinking away tears, then gulped air. The face had vanished, the being it belonged to having turned and stalked away from me. 

I was on a pallet, in the corner of a stone room. The creature had gone over to a door in the wall. He leaned around the corner and shouted, and guttural as it was, I did understand it: "Inform the Master that the female wakes." 

Pulling his head back into the room, he turned to send a _glare_ my way, perhaps out of general principal, before yanking a crude wooden chair from the wall nearby and straddling it, to sit staring menacingly at me. 

Ye gods. He was...well...a nightmare. Greasy, lanky shoulder-length hair, leather armor, grayed undertunic, suspiciously-narrowed eyes, pointed ears, scars appearing at various places where his blue-grey skin showed... and apparently the nastiest disposition possible. 

I gulped, having yanked as much of the one sheet as I could up protectively around me, and gaped back, the urge to scream fortunately past now that he'd retreated back across the room. 

And, given that he was obviously somewhat intelligent, I risked speech: "_Who_ are you?" 

He sneered at me, letting out a guttural laugh. "I am Uruk-Hai. I am Martz." He paused to eye me up and down. "You're not too scrawny. Good. When the Master is done with you, perhaps he'll let us eat you." 

I _blinked._ Uruk-Hai. Uruk-Hai. 

How to describe the feeling I got when I realized where I must be? It's...just one of those things... Oh, never mind. Either you know what I mean...or you don't. 

The Uruk-Hai watched me balefully, the laughed again as I reached out and savagely _pinched_ my own arm. "All of you do that. Hurt yourself. Why not wait? Plenty of hurt later." 

I looked up at him, startled. "'All of us'? There are others? What others?!" 

His answer was to flash his rotten teeth in an especially unwholesome grin. "They scream good." 

Oh, dear Mother of God....... I was trapped in Isengard somewhere. What the hell had happened? 

Fortunately, I was spared any more of Martz's sophisticated humour, as the aforementioned 'Master' swept into the room. 

Tall, bearded, hawk-nosed, white-haired and robed, and keen eyes of the deepest black. And utterly radiating power. 

And I knew I was in even deeper sh*t than I'd realized. 

***** 

Appearances can be quite deceptive. 

For a few moments, my situation seemed to improve. The tall, white-robed man turned and told the guard, a touch of sternness in his tone, that he was to wait outside until needed. After the human-eating, murderous, sadistic creature obeyed, with a surly glance but admirable speed, it was just the old man and myself in the room. 

The much less-threatening white-haired old man, his glance bespeaking of wisdom and knowledge. Who carefully laid his staff against the wall near the door and gently moved the chair closer to the middle of the room, part way between me and the doorway, then sat down. 

I relaxed the merest fraction, loosening my grip on the sheet I'd pulled around me. 

The old man regarded me gravely for a few moments, then smiled faintly. 

"You're a very brave young woman, I can see that." 

I _blinked_. His voice was smooth, melodious. A pleasure just to hear. 

"I'm sure you must be wondering how it is you came to be here." 

I swallowed, my suppressed terror clashing with the calming quality of his words. When I didn't answer, the faintest line appeared between his eyes, and I found myself nodding quickly. 

The line went away and he smiled again, approval radiating out from him. 

"You are here to help save these lands from the grasp of unspeakable Evil." He paused, perhaps to observe if I were suitably impressed. My eyebrows had both risen of their own accord, which he perhaps took for awe, for he went on. "This is a task only you can do, and thus it is you who have been brought here." 

I blinked. 

"What is your name, child?" he asked benevolently, everyone's favorite grandfather. 

Child. Something in me squirmed - I had been an 'adult' now for some years... But I answered anyway, for to not do so would be rude, and to be rude to this nice old man was inconceivable. "Sarah." 

"Sarah." He smiled. "A lovely name. Sarah..." and here his voice turned a notch resolute, "Would you like to help many, many people?" 

What was I going to say? _No?_ I nodded, still mostly speechless. 

His approval was like the sun's light, a balm, a blessed relief. I let out a faint sigh and my death grip on the sheet loosened yet more. Maybe...maybe it would somehow be all right. Maybe this nightmare would have a happy ending, after all. 

The old man nodded and smiled encouragingly. _Yes._ "It is a very simple thing I ask of you, yet only _you_ can help us in this way. You see, I am a wizard, the head of a Council, the leader of those fighting to save these lands from Evil. All you must do is to let me see some information that I know you carry...inside your mind." 

I tensed up again. Wasn't there...something...? Wasn't this...? "W-what information?" 

"To you the merest trifle, to us vital information about our future." He leaned forward somewhat, his eyes pleading and kind and resolute all at the same time. His voice lowered slightly, he asked: "Will you help us, Sarah?" 

And my eyes met his, and the sincerity in them was too much; too much. And I opened my mouth to say ye-- 

From down the corridor beyond the door came a short bark of a guttural laugh, an answering snarl. 

I startled and broke the eye contact, my tension returning full force as I recalled what was waiting outside. The man before me sat back and regarded me for a few moments before smiling apologetically and getting to his feet. "My pardon; I shall return shortly." 

He left the room, and I heard a murmured conversation, then what might have been a _yelp_ of pain, abruptly cut off. 

But by the time he returned, I was huddled in the corner again. 

I'd remembered where I was, and who this 'kind old man' was. 

He was the person who'd betrayed all the trust put in him by the free peoples of Middle Earth, and had those...creatures outside in the hall _made_. He was a mini Dark-Lord wannabe, and doing a bang-up job of it. 

And he'd been working his wiles on me, his hypnotic and voice magics. 

I swallowed hard in a dry throat and glanced around the room, the one window to the outside, the door, the chair rungs, anywhere but at him, as he re-seated himself and again bent that benevolent gaze upon me. 

"My child?" 

I squirmed inwardly at that...that unctuousness. And before I could hold it back, the thought _If I were really your child, I'd suicide_ flashed through my mind. 

Out of the corner of my eye I saw his own eyes narrow slightly before resuming his 'grandfather' act. 

"Sarah? Why will you not look at me?" So kind...so concerned... 

I glanced momentarily at him sidelong, mumbled something about "...nervous", then asked quickly, "What happened to the others?" 

"Others? How do you mean?" 

"That...Martz. He said there were others." 

"Ah. Indeed, we asked others for help as we are asking you; alas, they did not have the knowledge we required. We sent them safely back home, with our thanks." 

"Screaming?" I couldn't help myself; it just slipped out. 

He bent a piercing gaze upon me. "Screaming? What do you mean, 'screaming'?" 

I pointed at the doorway. "_He_ said they 'screamed good.'" 

Saruman merely gazed upon me. His expression remained neutral, but his eyes glittered. 

I would say...it was probably not a good day to be Martz. 

Nor me, of course. 

"Faithful as he is, he is of an uncouth sort...and his humour is sadly lacking," he said then. 

I narrowed my eyes at him. You had to admit, he was really trying. Which was odd; why was he still playing this game? 

"Let me see them, and I'll tell you what you want to know," I lied, stalling for time but hardly able to stomach this any longer. 

"See them?" Saruman peered closely at me. "What do you mean, child?" 

And I finally lost it. "And I'm not your _child_, _** wizard**_!" I snarled. 

Now his eyes glittered at _me_, but I was past caring. "Spare me your games; I know who you are, and what you want. You can take your nicey-nicey act and shove it up your a--" 

"ENOUGH!!" he snapped, and I flinched back at the power in that one burst of irritation. He peered at me from under hooded eyelids. Speculatingly, now. As if he finally saw me. 

"You know who I am and what I want? And pray tell, what is that?" His voice had returned to its earlier smoothness...but now with a definite undercurrent. "Where did you come by this information?" 

I looked at him uncertainly. A new game? What was going on here? It was as if the kid gloves were finally off, yet he was still playing ignorant... 

I looked away. "Let me see the others. The ones Martz mentioned." 

When he didn't answer, I glanced back at him, and saw that same speculative gaze. "Yes; you _are_ different from the others," he said, as if to himself. "You have read the book? You know the tale of the One Ring of power?" 

I peered back at him suspiciously. "Of course, but why would you--" I stopped. Something very odd was going on here, and I had the horrid feeling I'd just put my foot in it, or was about to put my foot in it... 

He nodded. "Ah. And so you believed the lies about me...the way the truth was warped in that telling." 

I stared at him. "Lies?" 

He seemed to have regained his equilibrium. "Relate to me the tale as you learned it, so that I may know how those weaker men slandered me and my great purpose." 

I gawped at him. "Is _that_ why you brought me here, to--" And of course that was when it hit me... like a ton of bricks between the eyes. 

He didn't seem to know who I was, that I'd worked alongside his enemies in Imladris - to him, I was just another like the 'others' who he'd somehow drawn here. From Earth! _That_ was how he'd learned of the Ring, in time to try to waylay Frodo before he left the Shire! He'd somehow learned of the story, the 'book', at least enough to shift the storyline as much as he had, independant of the changes _I'd_ caused. 

_It wasn't me. It wasn't me. It was **him**._ And my own information had in fact countered his own attempts to subvert the 'story'. 

Which was in the end, cold comfort. 

I was still trapped here in Isengard, with an obsessive, mad wizard, and surrounded by thousands of murderous Uruk-Hai. 

**~End Part 15~**


	16. Part 16

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

**The Nightmare - Part 16**   


by Bex 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   


I was trapped, surrounded by enemies, all hands turned against me, a megalomaniac wizard staring narrowly at me... 

So, naturally, I started arse-kissing. Well... tried to. 

How else was I going to keep myself alive a little longer... give myself the barest hope of somehow getting out of this situation? Maybe even warn the others, the two Fellowships, that Saruman indeed knew of possible future events of the War of the Ring? 

Hoping it wasn't already too late, I darted a cautious glance aside at him. He might not buy it if I went too conciliatory on him, but perhaps some acquiescence would please him. "You want to know what happened in the book?" And unbidden, the thought flew: _You lost, you **git!**_

I winced inwardly. Oh, dear Valar... I could only hope at this point that the mental shields I'd learned to make in Imladris weren't shot all to hell. 

He smiled. Not a warm smile, certainly not his grandfatherly act of earlier. Condescendingly amused. "Such...hostility..." he murmured. 

_Can't imagine **why**..._ Again I winced. He did seem to bring out the worst in me. 

I continued to cast glances his way, worried about getting caught in his eyes again. He seemed amused by that as well. 

Time to throw him a bone. "Yes, I can tell you what occurred in the book...but didn't the others already tell you? " Oh, those _poor_ people.... 

"Several did not survive the crossing." Finally, he was playing it straight with me. "With others, the process involved seemed to...break their minds." 

I repressed a shudder. How many had he taken? 

"You see, some would not cooperate. A... harsher process was required." 

I offered a sickly smile as he continued to unravel his careful facade of kindly benevolence. Such fun, watching it come down, watching him enjoy watching my discomfort build instead. 

Sick bastard. 

_You are a sick bastard, Saruman. Sick, sick, sick. And the only reason I'm not throwing all my disgust in your face right now, is... _

...well, I'm just not ready to die. Not quite yet. 

And at that moment I didn't care if he 'heard' that or not. 

***** 

I was suddenly very tired. "Why don't you," I suggested, "tell me what you know...and I can fill in the gaps?" 

"I know," he intoned, "that the 'story' already shifts, changes, from what it once was. It is that I would hear of now." 

I blinked at him. Changes? _How?_

Then I recalled the altered chapter titles I'd noticed. But that had been in a dream! 

Hadn't it? 

I shook my head. "I don't--" 

"The changes will manifest in your realm; you will have seen them. They will not seem like 'changes' to you, simply the narrative as it is." 

Oh, the Irony. I of all people could 'see' the changes...but didn't know the 'ending'. Now I had to juggle telling him some innocuous details from the story, without making it obvious I didn't really know how it all turned out... 

"It's been a while since I read it...I may not remember all the details..." He waved an impatient hand and I continued on. I very generally covered Frodo having the Ring, as he already knew that, then about Frodo leaving early for Rivendell after an attempted robbery... 

Saruman regarded me from under hooded eyes, fingers steepled, making no sign of how he regarded my tale. 

I glossed over the Council...and needless to say, made no mention of my own presence/role. Then I sent the one Fellowship on its way, bringing the Ring to Saruman... 

His gaze shifted and he unsteepled his hands. "That will do." He levered himself out of the chair and gazed sternly down at me where I still crouched upon the pallet. "Your memory seems to be...lacking, compared to other accounts I have heard," he said then. 

I gulped inwardly. "I told you it'd been a while since I'd read it!" 

"As you say. Perhaps some time spent with... Martz... would jog your memory." 

As if on cue, the Uruk in question appeared in the doorway. Saruman saw my facial expression shift and turned to look, his eyes narrowing. "What did I tell you about interrupting me?" 

Martz bobbed his head respectfully. "You said you wanted to be informed the moment the brown one had returned..." 

Saruman stared at the nervous Uruk for a few moments longer, then relented. "So I did." He considered momentarily, before turning and striding from the room, retrieving his staff at the door. "Close the door and guard our guest," he said, adding almost as an afterthought, "Do not 'play' with her. Yet." He sent a last narrow glance over his shoulder at me as he left. 

Behind him, Martz leered at me, then swung a wooden door shut as he backed out. 

And I? 

I just sat huddled numbly on the pallet. 

***** 

_These are the times that try men's souls._

And mine, as well. Thank you, Mister Paine, for leaving out half of us. 

I... 

How do I describe such a time, the types of thoughts that pass through your mind? Truly trapped. Death or Dishonour, which would it be? At least I was not so naive as to think that the final result would be anything other than being tossed to Martz and his friends to be disposed of, even if I revealed all I knew. More like: death or dishonoured death? 

I didn't know precisely what Saruman knew at this point, but I didn't dare offer him more, even of the 'original' narrative. But he wanted me to give him the story as it currently stood; ironically I could no longer oblige him, even if I wanted to. 

I was still too much a part of it - I could no longer see the forest for the trees. 

I drew myself up in a compact wedge, arms around my legs where they were drawn up before me, and desperately wished myself away. This would be a good time for the 'dream' to end. Really. 

The minutes trickled by. 

I got up, shoving aside the sheet and clutching the skirt of the wrinkled brown linen shift someone had put on me (I shuddered at the thought of who it might have been) as I climbed off the little mattress and started pacing my room. The window was high up, too high for me to reach, but through the small square, I saw a glimpse of blue sky. 

Oh, that ached. It also meant I was likely in the tower itself...Orthanc, hadn't its name been? 

_One damsel in distress in tower available for rescuing._

_Don't everyone rush in all at once._

There was nothing, _nothing_ in this room I could use for _anything_... 

Well, there was a sheet...linen, apparently. A bit hard to rip and tie together. 

It would have helped if the window wasn't, oh... I would guesstimate, about only a foot square. As well as five feet above me. 

There wasn't even anything there with which I could reliably take my own life. 

Yes. I thought of it. 

Given the prospect of a death with no dignity, perhaps after having been broken into betraying my Ardan friends... And the possibility of making my own exit, spiting my enemies, escaping in that way... 

Don't tell me you wouldn't also at least consider it. 

I starting hunting around the wall surface for any projecting stone edges, something sharp enough to cut. 

No, I didn't _want_ to die... But... I refused to just let this happen. This couldn't happen, couldn't be happening... 

I _had_ to know there was another option. An out. 

The I heard the door creaking open behind me... and I knew that my chance was gone. 

**~End Part 16~**


	17. Part 17

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

**The Nightmare - Part 17**   


by Bex 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   


I was facing away from the door - as it opened, I turned my head to look back over my shoulder. 

It was Martz. 

We stared at each other for a few moments. "I thought he told you not to 'play' with me," I said finally, evenly, turning to face him. 

He grinned at the reminder. "We play later. Right now, you're wanted." 

Wanted...wanted. Apparently elsewhere in this place, for he stomped over and grabbed me by an arm and yanked, his way of encouraging me to go with him. 

I yelped, and went. 

***** 

Down a myriad of steps we went, confirming my guess that this was Orthanc. Apparently further up, for we descended for several minutes, my guide pulling at the grip he had on my arm whenever my steps faltered. 

I, meanwhile, was trying to maintain my footing on the narrow steps. My Uruk companion would lope over several at a time; I was trying to scramble down behind him. 

One such yank surprised a curse out of me. Below me, Martz halted suddenly. 

"_What_ you call me?" 

Heart hammering, I schooled my face to utter blankness. "Nothing." 

"'Nothing'? This 'ass hoe' means 'nothing?' 

No reply from me. 

He sneered at me and started onwards, with the most vicious yank yet, and I stumbled forward. "It is not Martz who is 'nothing'. We will soon see who is 'nothing'." 

Indeed. 

***** 

A couple of minutes later, we turned off the stairs into a doorway, and proceeded forward into a large, round chamber. 

It was decorated with carvings and pillars; torches flickered in wall-sconces. 

My heart sank further. Definitely a wizard's demesne. 

Martz let go of my arm, but just so he could give me a hearty shove forward. I stumbled forward and regained my balance, not even bothering to shoot the vicious look I had ready at the Uruk, instead reserving it for the instigator of all this, the Istar before me, seated on the chair on the dais-- 

The shaper of modern Isengard, next to whom was standing a somewhat familiar figure. 

What happened next might have been amusing, had it occurred in some other circumstance. Both of us muttered _"You?!"_ at about the same moment, out of pure surprise. 

It was Radagast the Brown, his own staff in hand, standing there next to a bemused Saruman. 

"_This_ is the human you drew here yesterday?" the Brown Wizard asked, blinking. 

"Yes. Yet you appear to have met each other before..." The Master of Isengard was relaxed, unperturbed...but keen gaze flicking between the both of us. 

For a few moments, Radagast stared at me without expression. 

And then that bastard ratted me out. 

***** 

Saruman was highly amused. "At the Council of Elrond, you say? 'Brought across' by someone there, as I have done here? Offered them counsel from the book?" He leaned forward slightly to peer at me, eyes bright. "I understand better now your reticence!" He sat back again. "But it is to no avail - I have already been made aware of the Fellowships' plans." 

At his use of the plural, I looked at him sharply, and he nodded. "I know of their deception - who goes, whence they plan to go...and with which group travels the true Ringbearer." He nodded aside at the Istar next to him. "My colleague here has made a wise choice of allies. Unlike some." Radagast was staring at me, still expressionless. 

And I felt the rage building in me. _Now_ the meaning behind that chapter title I'd seen - 'The Betrayal' - was all too clear. But all I did at the moment was to look over at Radagast where he stood. "You _son_ of a _bi--_" 

It was Radagast, not Saruman, who lifted a hand in a sharp gesture, face suddenly stormy. An invisible, giant hand plucked me up off the floor several feet, then released me. I crashed back down in a heap and lay, half-stunned, not daring to move for the moment. 

I heard Saruman chuckle. "Your temper grows shorter as the years pass, my friend." 

Radagast's voice was taught with anger. "She named you an enemy to all of Middle Earth before the Council in Imladris. Impudent from the first that I met her." 

I continued to lie on the floor and thought dully: _Sorry, Temeril... But it appears that I was right... and you were wrong. He really **doesn't** like me._

Saruman, apparently flattered by Radagast's righteous indignation on his behalf, began to wax poetic. "It is those of you who oppose the unification of Arda who are the true traitors. You will be swept away by the new order that is to come..." 

I closed my eyes and started to wish I'd been knocked unconscious when Radagast had thrown me. 

So I struck back with the only weapon I had. 

Words. 

"It doesn't matter how much you change the story, you know - you won't win," I said in a conversational tone. I opened my eyes again and stared up at the ceiling. "You didn't get the Ring in the very beginning, before anyone even knew you were trying...and you won't get it now." No rage from me now. Just calm confidence. My words felt true, felt right...even in the face of the present situation. 

Plus, something I remembered thinking about several days ago in Imladris had returned to me. "My coming here originally _wasn't_ an accident." I pushed myself to a sitting position to stare across the chamber at Saruman...the better to watch him make the obvious connections. 

The present struggle on Arda had not gone unnoticed. And Saruman's 'coup' of discovering the 'future' in a story... had been countered - and negated. 

He would not be allowed that blatant an unfair advantage. 

The Master of Isengard sat on his seat, sunk deep in thought. Radagast remained standing next to him, calmly now, his expression unreadable. 

"You're simply _not_ destined to win." 

Saruman slowly raised his head, and I flinched under his baleful gaze, regretting that last goad. 

Too late; too late. 

When he got to his feet and descended from his chair, still staring at me, a sudden fear seized me, a desperation to escape so instinctual that, sore as I was, I scrambled to my feet and looked wildly about for some way out. 

But there was nowhere to go. 

I turned back from the brace of Uruk-Hai who blocked the doorway to the outside, to look at their Master. 

"Come **here**." 

That's not the sort of invitation you accept. 

You run. 

And so I did. 

I got about 5 yards before a pair of Uruks snagged me and dragged me over to where their Master stood. 

"There is something you must see," he told me, dark eyes glittering. "Only _then_ will you finally understand. " I caught a glimpse of Radagast where he stood nearby. He did not look happy. 

I did not puzzle over that at the time, though. I was much too busy being concerned for myself, as my guards wrenched me around and I found myself blinking at a sudden flutter of fabric being drawn away from a glass sphere in whose depth vague, murky shapes roiled... 

By the time I realized what I was gazing at... I was already caught. 

***** 

I stood frozen, my mind automatically straining to _see_ what churned within the depths of the Palantir, and abruptly I was _elsewhere_-- 

--on a darkling plain, a waste of stone cracked with fissures, graced by nothing living, not even the simplest of vegetation. 

I reeled, caught my balance, then froze-- 

The Presence from my 'dream' of home. It was here, it knew I was here. 

I knew what it was, now, what was coming. The Eye. 

There is a terror so complete... so all-encompassing... so obscene...that surely you will die of it. 

Except that you don't. 

I could not run, I could not move, could only to drop to my knees, throwing up my arms in a futile warding gesture. And scream - not aloud, but with every fiber of my being. 

The 'Cat' had arrived. 

A baleful, red flickering light pounded past my squeezed-shut eyes; a sensation of power akin to the radiation from the hottest fire, yet at the same time not heat, pulsed in continuous, raging waves off the Presence before me. Surely it would scorch away my very being... 

My mental scream did not stop. Truly, I _could_ not stop - it was my instinctive aversion to this Being who was before me, poised to reach a delicate tendril into my mind and know all that I knew, all that I was-- 

A hand suddenly, impossibly grabbed my right arm from behind, and I _jerked_ as it pulled, slid to clasp my own hand. I tottered to my feet, the shock of this connection interrupting my anguish so that even through the waves of scorching intent, I somehow heard the voice calling out to me. 

The Terror abated just enough for me to turn my head to look. 

Temeril stood behind me, his right hand flung out, clasping mine, his own face twisted in horror of the Thing before us. 

But his grip did not falter. 

The next instant, two figures appeared behind him in quick succession, just 'popping' into being; incredibly, impossibly, I saw Arwen Evenstar, and behind her, her father, she grasping Temeril's free hand, Elrond, hers, creating a sudden chain of support-- 

--both their faces intent with concentration, both radiating their own energy, adding it to Temeril's, all of it combining and flowing over our group like a cool balm, then, barely glimpsed, a fourth figure behind them abruptly joining our chain-- 

Then something _**WRENCHED**_, and I knew nothing more. 

**~End Part 17~**


	18. Part 18

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

A/N: Okay, kidz...this chapter's the last of my 'buffer', so you gon' have to wait a bit for the next part...won't necessarily be that long, though. Hopefully... *sweat drop* 

My thanks to all who've reviewed (saw them all, btw, even though not all got archived here). 'Addictive', eh? Got more than one comment recently mentioning that. All I can say is... MWAH HA HA! But... I'll be good and not charge $, so....read on and enjoy! And now, I'm off to my weekly 'cliff-hangers anonymous' meeting... ^_~ 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

**The Nightmare - Part 18**   


by Bex 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   


I surfaced back out of unconsciousness with only the greatest reluctance, badgered by a persistence that eventually formed into words... 

"Lady Sarah, you must wake! You must awaken _now!_ There is no time!" 

Something in the urgency of those words reached me; I blinked, light stabbing through slitted eyes, then lurched internally in horror as memory flooded me-- 

"_Please!_" the voice said quickly, "Do not--" 

The shriek burbling its way up out of me never surfaced; a finger tapped my forehead once, a voice quietly yet insistently said, "Be calm." 

The horror dropped away, back into the depths, shut away. 

I blinked again, heart still pounding, but realizing that wherever I was, the abhorrent Presence, the Eye that had hung before me was not here. 

I was safe. 

Well, as safe as I could be, back in the room I'd woken up in earlier, with Radagast the Brown, traitorous Istar, crouched before me. 

"Come; we must leave now," he said, reaching for me. 

I made an incoherent sound of protest, scrambling back on the pallet the best I could, but again, there was only wall behind me. 

His expression shifted. "If I could undo what I did earlier, I would. In the meantime, know that I truly mean you no harm. There is great peril now; you must trust me!" 

I was simply staring at him, my sluggish brain working to process his words, when a sensation of terror stabbed into me and I tensed. Like the horror from earlier, if lesser in magnitude. 

Something Bad was coming. 

The wizard's gaze sharpened. "You sense it. The Nazgul. Come, we must be away ere it arrives." 

The _I truly mean you no harm_ and _We must be away ere_ finally sank into my mind, and as he reached out again, I did not resist, but let him pull me to my feet and keep hold of one hand. 

Pulling me to the doorway, he paused, peering quickly out and up the stairway curving up to the left, before leading me out and starting down the stairs to the right. My mind whirling, I sluggishly followed, my steps leaden. 

Outside the doorway against the wall was slumped Martz, head lolling, apparently fast asleep. I blinked, too subdued by whatever the wizard had done to me to feel any real fear. 

Radagast saw my glance. "He sleeps." Not a natural sleep, apparently. 

We started down the stairs, as rapidly as I could go. Despite the urgency of our departure, I could not help but ask. "What are you _doing_--?" 

"Saruman waits above, to greet Sauron's messenger. I told him I would go retrieve you. He assumes I will bring you up to him. I do the opposite." He punctuated that explanation with a grim smile. 

I was really very Slow that day, though I suppose it could be forgiven, given what had happened. "_Why_--?" 

He shot me a sharp glance, which softened as he perhaps realized how very strung out I still was. "I am not quite the Traitor I may have appeared to be. Nor the simple Fool that Saruman in his arrogance takes me for. But the time for that Ruse is over. Now we must go." 

To that I could only gawp, then hurry along beside him as quickly as I could. 

***** 

We passed several other Uruk Hai on the stairs and corridors; too numb to feel much, I watched dully as Radagast made a curious gesture with his free hand. 

None of them made a sign of having seen or heard us as we slipped quietly by, and into the circular interior room I'd been in earlier, which was thankfully empty of guards at the moment. Radagast released my hand and told me to wait there. "There is something I must retrieve ere we leave." 

A woven fabric wallet hung around him, strap across his chest; he strode over near Saruman's chair, and I caught a flash of glassy sheen as he carefully removed something from a pedestal there and deposited it into the pouch. 

When he turned back, I was backpedalling. "Be at ease," he said, quickly, perhaps seeing the expression on my face. "No more harm will come to you from this, I promise." I paused, heart hammering. "We dare not leave this in his hands," he said then. My eyes met his, and he added, more quietly, "I believe it was also an integral part of how he managed to draw you and the others here, from your own realm." 

Then he would no longer be able to... I thought of all the others, how many I did not know...who had been brought here, and used... and then disposed of. 

But no more. That particular horror could end. 

Even though I said nothing, he seemed to sense my change of heart. He nodded, and hurried towards me, and the exit-- 

I felt rather than heard a wordless _SHOUT_, a pulse of pure rage...from way up somewhere atop the tower. Oh, my God...such _rage_... 

"Our flight is discovered!" Radagast cried. "Quickly, now!" 

He grabbed my hand, and we ran. 

***** 

The Isengard that I saw spread out below us as we left the tower was as grim and sinister a fortification as I'd ever seen. Not that I'd seen that many, but... 

A miniature version, a mockery of Sauron's home, Tolkien had called it. I glanced out over the avenues of stone and metal stretching before us, the vapors and steams and clanks, and glimpses of forge-light... 

And prayed I'd never have cause to see the original. 

And then I remembered something - there was only one way in and out of the city - one gate. 

"How're we going to get out of here?!" I gasped. Surely the city would be raised against us before we even made it half-way-- 

Radagast wasn't listening to me; he had paused, and was staring back at the tower. I followed the direction of his gaze, and quailed at what I saw. 

Lightening crackled, playing around Orthanc's summit. One mad Istar, at the height of his rage-- 

Even as dread seized me, Radagast snatched his staff from the carrying strap from which it had been hanging and gave me a hearty _shove_, sending me sprawling away-- 

--the next moment, the very air _crackled_, a bolt of lightening striking from above, the air concussing in a violent thunderclap that drew an answering wail out of me even as I hit the ground-- 

I was still alive. Blinking, dazed, I saw before me that Radagast still stood, face grim, staff in hands, raised as if daring another bolt from above. As I stared in awe, he answered the attack, hurling something unseen but _felt_, a bolt screaming towards the pinnacle of Orthanc-- 

Despair galloped into my mind as the lightening nevertheless continued to play about the pinnacle, as if gathering for one last bolt that would surely incinerate us the moment we tried to escape down the wide avenue to the gates. Saruman was too strong; too strong - he was mad, after all-- 

Then I heard a sound that symbolized perfectly everything I felt in that moment - all the despair, all the fear-- 

Something large and dark sped shrieking through the air towards the tower's top, bringing terror with it. 

And I realized this was the source of the worst of my sudden fear. The Nazgul had arrived. 

But, in an amazing Irony... it proved to be our salvation. 

Radagast secured his staff on the strap slug over his back next to his bag, and hurried over to me, helping me up. "Now, while he is distracted!" 

And so he was. The energy still pulsed around the tower top, but the malevolence was no longer focused on us. For a few precious minutes, we sprinted, sore, battered but desperate, down the main avenue. What few were abroad were too busy to take much notice of us; most were staring, slack-jawed, at the flying shape circling the tower. I glanced back in time to see the lightening arc out at it, be repulsed, reach out again. 

_They're fighting!_ I realized. _Why?!_

Radagast glanced back once, as if sensing my awe before explaining quickly, "He has angered his master. The Nazgul is here partly to chastise him." 

We suddenly turned aside, as Radagast, still hanging onto my hand, darted into a stone building. By the rich aroma, a stable or barn of some kind. "What are you doing?" I cried. 

"My steed, Edis!" he replied fiercely. "I will not leave him to them! And without him we will not get far!" 

It was dim within; nevertheless the Istar went unerringly to one stall, spoke soothingly to the beast within as he backed him out. A honey-colored stallion. 

A figure suddenly shuffled into view from around one corner. I had only the energy left to stare. 

Human, by the look of him. Swarthy. One of those orc-like Southroners. He stopped at the sight of us, of me gawping, of Radagast rapidly and expertly securing the tack on his steed. "Ho, what is this?" 

"I ride at my Lord Saruman's request," Radagast said coolly. "As you can see it is urgent." He paused long enough to send a gaze the Southron's way. "Would you have me tell him you delayed me?" 

"Nay, of course not." The stablehand or whatever he was rapidly backed away and vanished back into the stable's depths. 

I blinked and swayed. Too many adrenaline rushes in one day; too little strength left... 

An arm suddenly caught at me, pulled me over to the horse, encouraged me up. "Just a little further, Lady Sarah." I climbed and sat quiescent, as he hoisted himself up behind and draped a cloak around me, somewhat hiding my form and features. 

We exited the stables and cantered to the city gates. "It is I, the wizard Radagast! I ride on behalf of your Lord, Saruman!" he bellowed, playing his role one last time. "Open the gates immediately!" 

And it worked. The guards there, long trained into obedience, especially of Istari, quickly activated the gate mechanism. We trotted into the tunnel, then under the raising gate on the other end. 

And then we were on the other side of the city wall, galloping hell bent for leather down the paved stone highway. 

You might say...as if the Nine themselves were after us. 

**~End Part 18~**


	19. Part 19

A/N: I'm a bit worried about my Radagast; he's not been the most consistently behaving character, has he? (Must be the stress...yeah, that's it...) 

You guys _do_ understand I'm pretty much plotting as I go....right? _*semi-hysterical giggle*_ But honestly, something this long, I wouldn't keep at it unless I was put on the spot by having people wanting to know how the cliffhangers turn out. 

Glad you guys're still enjoying this. Read on. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

**The Nightmare - Part 19**   


by Bex 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   


Radagast and I rode from Isengard at full speed for a short time, until we were well out of sight of the main gate, and the road curved around and away. Then we turned off from the road, but following it from a distance, settling down to a ground-eating trot. 

About all this, I had no comment. I clung numbly, having finally slipped into a fog of mental and physical exhaustion. Even the vague thought that the Nazgul, left behind over Isengard, might yet pursue us did not move me. 

Didn't take long for me to slip into an uneasy doze. Sometime during that fog of sleepiness I heard or maybe sensed the passing, high overhead, of something unwholesome, and came to more alertness with a _twitch_. 

Saruman's stronghold was out of site, now, green, brush-choked countryside all around. I _blinked_ blearily, disorientated. 

"Rest easy - it will not find us. It returns to its master." 

I drifted off to sleep again. 

***** 

The second time I jerked fully awake to find we had stopped for the night, the sun sinking low on the horizon. 

I had to be helped off Edis. Stiff and sore and bruised as I was, I felt almost molded to him where I had sat. I staggered around a little, stifling a groan, then promptly sat down and yawned hugely, feeling utterly useless. 

"Sorry," I mumbled. 

After tending to his mount, Radagast quickly had a small, smokeless fire going. Whether he used any wizards tricks to start it, I did not notice. The late spring air was cool, and I leaned eagerly towards the heat. 

Rummaging around a saddle bag, my companion produced several cloth wrapped objects that proved to be cheese, bread and some sort of dried meat. A water skin and a small metal pan were soon employed in heating some water. 

"Our provisions will be meager for now, I fear." 

I glanced up. "Not a problem. I'm not really hungry anyway." _I feel half dead..._

"Drink this." He was leaning forward and offering me a metal cup. I took it, glancing at it with vague interest. "What is it?" 

"A fortifying tea. It is useful, especially after shocks..." 

I stared down at it, shrugged inwardly, and drank it. Wasn't very pleasant, but at this point, I figured that was the least of my concerns. 

"Thank you." I handed the cup back to him and sat, staring at the fire. But I could feel his regard upon me and shifted, uncomfortably, finally looking up again. 

We stared at each other for a few moments. Then he said, "I regret what I did...in the service of my ruse. I would that I had not hurt you." 

I nodded. "You didn't know I was there." 

He shook his head. "He mentioned a 'summoning'. I feared his intent, but was not certain then of his meaning, until I returned." He paused. "I certainly did not expect to see _you_..." 

I offered a ghost of a smile. "Ditto." When he looked bemused, I elaborated. "Nor I, you." 

We gazed at each other a few moments more. "You...don't usually do this sort of thing...do you?" I asked then. 

He let out a short rueful laugh. "No. My love is for the forests and the creatures who live there. But as this venture began... I became a spy in the last place I would normally go, against he who was chief of all us Istar. Perhaps...I have over-played my part." 

I couldn't help smiling again briefly. "Well...you had everyone convinced...so I guess that's all that counts. Erm... I take it he's now looking in the wrong direction to find Frodo...?" When he just sent a narrow Look at me, I blushed. "Sorry...just..." 

Then something he'd said earlier nagged at me. "You said earlier that the...Nazgul came partly to punish him. And for what else?" 

He hesitated a moment before answering. "When you were freed from the Palantir, he who was on the other end of the link was...both angered and intrigued. That much Saruman made clear. He conferred with his master after you collapsed, and told me you were being sent for..." 

_Oh._ I looked down, swallowing. Not going there. _So_ not going there. Don't think about it. "Well, you got me out of there; so we're certainly even _now_." Suddenly what he'd said fully registered. "Wait - _freed?_" 

He nodded. 

"Freed...I was...I was helped!" I muttered. I looked over at him. "I _was_ helped. It was...it was Temeril..." I suspect my face took on an expression of wonder. "And...Arwen... and her father, too!" 

I stared now, astonished. "That much I remember...and I'm not sure, but someone else also; I'm couldn't quite see..." 

"That was me," he admitted, sounding a little surprised I'd noticed it. 

"_**Thank you**_," I said then, and it was as heart-felt as any thanks I have ever uttered. "You all helped...but Temeril, he was there first..." 

Radagast raised a brow at my bemusement. "The bond you have formed is strong; it saved us all from disaster this time, I think - the others shielded you until I could also help, once Saruman was distracted enough not to notice." 

_"Bond?"_ It came out a bit sharper than I'd intended. 

Radagast peered at me for a few moments before smiling just a little. "Yes. Do not trouble yourself over-much now - it will perhaps make more sense later." 

I narrowed my eyes at this, but did not protest further. Sleep was calling again, now that the most crucial of the explanations had been gotten out of the way, and I yawned yet again, rolling myself up in my cloak as near the fire as was prudent. 

I was asleep within five minutes. 

***** 

I awoke the next day still stiff and sore, but free, free as a bird. 

And sat, hunkered next to the now dead fire, yawning my disbelief. The sun was just appearing over the rim of the horizon, and actual birds were about, twittering and flitting from bush to tree, darting from shelter to shelter. Edis grazed nearby, moving slowly through scraggles of dew-and spiderweb strung grass, his tail swishing every so often. 

I glanced over and saw that Radagast was standing there, talking to them. 

Or so was the impression I had for those first few moments. Then I blinked and saw that he was merely standing, hands folded before him, peering intently at several sparrows hopping on the ground before him. I saw pecking going on and figured that an offering had been cast, perhaps some leftover crumbs from last night's meal. 

I turned my attention back to willing the sleep out of my eyes without rubbing at them too much. What had happened the past couple of days had left me so drained I had little energy to do anything, and even less ambition. 

Presently, Radagast returned, and doled out bread and cheese. His movements were brisk, and as I watched him move about, efficiently breaking camp, my unease grew. 

"What's wrong?" 

He paused and looked over at me. Not surprised, as much as speculating. Wondering how much to tell me. 

"There is movement, on the road. It is possible we will be searched for, so it is best we leave now." 

My insides lurched faintly, my appetite gone. "Search? How?" 

"It will not matter; we will be gone by then." 

I decided to take the reassurance offered in lieu of a real answer, and climbed slowly to my feet only to glance over at Edis in sudden dismay. Dear God, did that poor horse have to carry us both? A fast get-away was one thing, but how far were we journeying, anyway? And what if we had to outrun some sort of pursuit? 

Radagast seemed to have followed my glance and my sudden dismay. "He is stronger than you might think - he is a Mearas." 

I took a moment to remember that term. Ah, yes - arguably the finest, largest and strongest horse breed here in Arda, and Rohan's finest export. Edis _was_ a rather large, strongly-built horse; I would guesstimate a few hands taller than the average Earth horse, a bit broader. 

Well, I'd have to take the wizard's word regarding his own horse - he should know. 

After all, we were betting our lives on it. 

***** 

We set off at a brisk but steady pace. I was not looking forward to the rigors of hours of riding, and now that I was rested and somewhat more alert, I felt a bit awkward, riding before a man who was a relative stranger to me, even if he _was_ a wizard. Then again, I could hardly complain, given what I had narrowly escaped... Once again, I wrenched my mind away from focusing upon what had occurred back in Isengard, what might have happened... _Not going there!_

"Where are we going?" 

"The Golden Wood. There you will be safe, as safe as it is possible to be in these troubled times. And others from the Fellowships may make their way there if in need." 

I felt a combination of relief and dismay. He was right; it was the most logical place to hole up this side of the Misty Mountains. But given the forces in motion now, it was doubtful I'd be making my way back to the place I really preferred to be (if I had to be stuck here in Arda) anytime soon. 

Not until after the situation had been decided here, one way or the other. Pessimistic scenarios of what might happen if the Fellowship and Frodo failed, or if war did break out here as it had in Tolkien's trilogy crept into my mind, and my heart sank at the thought of being trapped in Lorien for months, maybe years, then probably left behind as the elves eventually made mad dashes for the sea, fleeing to Valinor... 

_Silly, silly girl...surely you'll wake up long before then..._

_Gods_... I wound my fingers into Edis's coarse mane. I just wanted to be home, and safe. While stuck here, Imladris would do. Lothlorien was full of elves, but none of them were-- 

_Not going there!_

My shoulders slumped, and I was just gearing up for a quality wallow, when I noticed specks of movement in the sky to my left. 

We were travelling for safety's sake about a quarter mile parallel to the old valley road, upon a slight slope, but shortly planning to leave it and strike out across the open plains, Radagast had told me. I blinked and refocused on the specks arching through the air. 

Birds - to be this visible from this far away, had to be good-sized ones. Crows, or ravens, or something similar. 

And then I tensed as I remembered, from the first book. Birds - Saruman had used birds to spy on the Fellowship. 

Fortunately, they didn't seem to be moving in our direction. Yet. 

I spoke from a suddenly dry throat, even as Radagast guided Edis, encouraging him down under tree-cover. "Can they see us?" 

"If they have, we shall soon know." 

But no flock broke off to wheel over our location; instead they continued to slowly swirl above the line of the road, slowly but surely following it. 

As if they were tracking something after all, just something upon the road. 

I shivered inwardly, wondering what traveller had been unlucky enough to catch the undivided attention of Saruman's spies. 

A sense of movement behind me had me glancing behind. What I saw was Radagast raising one arm to create a perch for the small brown sparrow that suddenly flitted down to land there. 

I _blinked_ but turned round again, lest I scare it off. A few moments later, something darted off, heading past and towards the road. What?? 

"You--" I began. 

"He has agreed to see what is there upon the road, and relate it back to me." 

I kept forgetting that this sort of thing was this wizard's specialty. Gandalf might have talked to the eagles...but this one, he _really_ talked to the animals... 

Some minutes later, I saw a small brown shape winging its way back to us, and Radagast held up his hand again, awaiting a report. 

Thanking the bird, he soon sent him on his way, but whatever he'd 'heard' had obviously disquieted him, for he said: "Something is happening, and I fear...I need to get a closer look. Only as close as is safe but enough to see who moves upon the road." 

"What...what did he say?" I felt silly, but obviously the bird'd said _something_... 

"Just that many moved along the road; men, and what they call 'the destroyers'. Their way of describing orcs." 

Oh, _lovely_... 

We carefully moved closer. With about half the distance crossed, we started to pick up wisps of noise, carried to us on the shifting breeze: faint drumbeats, an occasional hoarse cry. I winced. Surely they hadn't sent out that many people after _us_? What, in the hopes that they'd catch us on the road? 

Again, I was somewhat slow. 

We paused, slightly upslope still but sheltered from the sight of those on the road by the wood we had been passing through, and reached a vantage point where we started to catch glimpses of sunlight reflecting off metal below. 

Off armor, I realized - presumably off body after body passing along below us, on the road. The wind shifted, and the hoarse guttural cries and monotonous drumbeats came clearly to our ears. And the glints, that faint impression of movement continued on. And on. 

And on. 

Then it hit me, the realization of what I was seeing. 

Edis suddenly started to move, as Radagast directed him, moving up and away at a light jog. Getting us out of the danger zone. 

"They're not after us." Not a question, but I felt a need to state the obvious. Radagast did not answer me, and I continued. "You know where they must be going." 

When he still did not answer, I added, "Right?" 

"I knew of his general plans, yes. Not even to me did he entrust all." 

"There's only one place they could be logically going at this point. To attack King Theoden. That was - is - Saruman's job - to destroy the Rohirrim. Keep them from ever helping Gondor." 

No answer. 

"Saruman's insane - and we probably set him off with what we did." I paused for a long, silent sigh. So tired... "You know what we have to do now... right?" 

I twisted round best I could in order to peer back at him, and saw what I decided must be his 'uncertain' look: quiet, guarded, mulling over the obvious, all the new possibilities spread out before us. 

"We have to warn them." 

He looked back at me for a few long moments, then nodded, once. 

"Yes," he agreed, quietly. 

And thus began our desperate race across the plains. 

**~End Part 19~**


	20. Part 20

A/N: My thanks to recent reviewers Kittenmommy, Darlene5 & Sliven! 

Um, yeah...I'm thinking Grima'll be around for this one... I mean, how could I leave such a fascinating character _out???_ ^_~ 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

**The Nightmare - Part 20**   


by Bex 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   


Radagast had said earlier, with quiet pride, that Edis was stronger than one might assume at first glance. 

Well, now the Mearas was going to get to prove it - by staying ahead of a huge army, launched months 'early', across the plains to Edoras, in time to warn a king enthralled to the very wizard who'd sent forth his troops to destroy the Rohrrim. 

I'd tried to convince the Istar to let me off, not to burden Edis or himself. Surely they would travel faster, gain the crucial time they needed without me? 

But he'd refused my suggestion, with a quiet stubbornness - in no way would he abandon me, leave me somewhere in the midst of all _this_. I resisted the urge to put my face in my hands. Damned Stubborn Istar. And I wanted no more part in this story. 

But the story now seemed determined to drag me along in its wake. 

Perhaps because I still found myself unable to shut up regarding what I 'knew' about the history of the conflict unfolding around us. For even as the narrative's shape twisted out of its 'original' form... much of the pattern still seemed to hold true. 

Our only real advantage was that as large a force as Saruman had just unleashed could not move as quickly as a Mearas. (Not that much in Arda _could_.) It would, Radagast predicted, take at least two days for them to cross the plains. 

So, after we'd circled around to give us a sufficient buffer zone, we struck out, wading into an open sea of yellow strewn with green - the winter's dead grasses, now being overtaken by new growth. 

Edis now loped with apparent effortlessness over the grassland that stretched from horizon to horizon, broken by occasional boulders and small scraggly bushes. I clung to his mane, and behind me sat Radagast, his trust and ease with his steed such that he seemed lost in thought, his mind somewhere far away, leaving Edis to find his own way back home. 

I hoped Radagast was thinking of what to do if King Theoden was as badly bespelled here as he'd been in Tolkien's tale, and told him so. 

He surfaced with a blink and an "Eh?" 

"How much did they tell you about the situation in Rohan?" 

"Mithrandir sketched me a brief picture." 

I nodded, then felt foolish, as he of course couldn't see my face. 

"At the time, of course, what he told me was based upon the information coming from _you_." 

What, _me_ defensive? His tone of voice hadn't even been insinuative. That much. But. "Well, it might not be the exact story here, but if it is...what then?" I challenged. 

"As I was about to say, that information that you supplied was, as it turns out, recently confirmed." 

"Which part? Parts?" 

"It was from Edoras that I recently returned in time to meet you," he told me and I _ahhhed_ inwardly. "Under the guise of an errand for Saruman, I saw for myself how it goes in Medusaled, saw the forked tongue that speaks in Theoden's name." 

I sighed. Yes, it was as bad as in the book. Theoden was batty, and Grima Wormtongue obviously lurked. 

***** 

Radagast explained that all of Rohan's settlements sat in the shadows of the White Mountains that curved protectively around one edge of the plains. Even as they and their horses roamed the grasslands freely, the Rohrrim always retreated back to the sheltering arms of the Ered Nimrais where their villages lay, usually hidden away in narrow valleys. 

At the end of this day's ride, by eschewing Edoras for the moment and angling staight across the plains, we would reach the closest of those settlements, a hamlet called Durswen. Possibly we would be able to send on word, at least ensure that a warning would be carried to the other villages nearby. They would probably heed and take precautions where Theoden might balk. Raids by Orcs and Dunlanders were more common in the borderlands, the people more wary, quick to take action in their own defense. 

After that, we would travel on to Edoras. 

As my companion described our destination and its people, I found myself respecting such a common-sensical, practical, tough attitude. 

Which was just as well, as I was about to see it nicely demonstrated against _us_. 

***** 

Hours later, as sunlight slanted low behind us and the White mountains stood arrayed before us, we'd left the plains proper and were cantering through small patches of woodland. 

Slowing down to a trot, we had just begun to descend a gentle slope, had gotten about, oh, a hundred feet or so, when we were challenged. A voice sharply called out: 

_"Halt!_ Who rides abroad in the Riddermark?" 

Edis stopped, alert, expectant. I say _he_ stopped, for Radagast seldom seemed to direct him, and he didn't have any chance to 'control' him in this instance. 

I saw no one in sight. And that creeped me out; we were being watched, not knowing how many there might be hidden around us. Definitely at a disadvantage. 

My companion, with a glance at me as I turned to look searchingly at him, answered for us both. "Radagast the Brown, Istar of the White Council. The Lady Sarah Deccker." 

Several long moments of silence. Then: "What is your purpose here?" 

"To visit with the headman of your village. And warn you all of the danger following behind us, a danger to all of Rohan." 

An even longer silence that somehow took on a tense, strained quality-- 

No, wait - that was _me_. 

Then: "We shall escort you." And four riders of the Mark appeared. They came from behind the copse of trees and several large boulders nearby - whoever had called out to us was one heck of a projector. 

They were indeed stern, and proud, tall and scruffy. Most were bearded, and all wore helms, which along with the chain-mail armor draped over various areas had seen much use. Their steeds swung their heads towards Edis, as if recognizing a seldom-seen friend. He in turn whickered softly, before settling down, moving easily between our flanking escort as we moved down into the valley. 

An escort, which, I realized then, we couldn't have escaped even if we'd wanted to. 

I decided not to dwell upon what they might have done to us had we not 'passed' their challenge. 

***** 

It was not large, this northernmost village of the Mark. A simple farming settlement, plots of various crops set alongside small wooden houses and barns, with a slightly larger cluster of buildings, including a long, thatched structure, in the center. 

It was to that largest building, now slanting long early evening shadows behind it, that we made our way now. Down a lane, past a few interested villagers who paused to stare, then talk quietly among themselves. 

But no one called out, no one laughed or joked; there was an air of....solemnity, of caution, even of discipline here. As if the villagers already knew that dark doings were afoot, independent of any news we brought. And had no time left for foolish merriment. 

We dismounted, me again painfully stiff and sore - it would take more than a day or two for me to become toughened to hours of riding. I tried to hide a grimace, but failed, as one of our escort glanced my way. 

"You are hurt?" 

I almost grimaced again, out of self-consciousness. _No, I just can't ride for sh*t, in a land where the people have practically grown up on horses..._

I shook my head. "I'm all right. Thank you." 

For asking, I meant. He looked at me a few moments longer, as if puzzled, before turning away. 

Fortunately, one thing we could be sure of was that Edis would receive the finest care here. Plus, from the reverent manner in which they were treating him, they knew he was one from their finest stock. He was coaxed away, along with the rest of the horses, as our group stepped into the long-house. 

For that was what it was, I saw instantly, once inside. A meeting-hall, their version of a town hall. 

Wooden beams, plenty of open space, torches in brackets. A large fireplace was at the far end. Near which sat a long table, and in a chair at one far end of that...sat a man, with several others loitering around nearby, a couple seated, one standing near the fireplace as if in casual conversation. 

The headman, I decided. He had an air of authority, had gotten the best seat, the others obviously deferring to him. 

We drew near, as those talking noticed our approach and turned to regard us. 

Arriving, we stopped. And then Radagast said, politely, 'Hail, Theodred, Theoden's Heir!" 

And I _blinked_ as the blonde, bearded man standing near the fireplace (_not_ the one seated at the table's end) lifted his gaze slightly, acknowledging the Istar's greeting, and peered at us both quite keenly, indeed. 

And I thought: _Oh, yeah...he's not dead yet... is he?_

**~End Part 20~**


	21. Part 21

A/N: Short...but new. Yup, been a whole semester since I last updated. But here is a bit more of the story. 

I hope you are all still enjoying. (Sorry 'bout all the cliffhangers - I'm a bit addicted to them, you see...) 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

**The Nightmare - Part 21**   


by Bex 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   


Theodred, King Theoden's son was indeed disconcertingly alive. So were the men there under his command. Within a few moments of our arrival and greeting, several more appeared behind us, and yet more wandered in. 

Apparently eager to hear what we had to convey to them. And hemming us in, I noticed as I glanced around furtively. 

There was no open threat yet, just this...air of alertness. Readiness. 

I gulped inwardly as I realized that the king's son had transferred his attention to me. Uncertain of what to do, I settled for a slight, respectful dip of the head. I certainly wasn't of his status, but neither was I a subject of any of these kingdoms. So I settled for moderate deference. 

When in doubt, be polite - but keep your mouth shut. 

It seemed to work - Theodred glanced back at Radagast, who was continuing. "We bring tidings of war. As we speak, an army sent by Saruman the White of Isengard is crossing Rohan. Heading, by our best guess, straight for Edoras." 

There was a brief silence. I felt a muscle _twitch_ in my cheek as my memory replayed flashes of the past few days's events. _My fault. Sorry. My fault. Sorry._

For being involved in hastening it all, I meant. 

One of Theodred's men, who'd drifted gradually up from the back of the hall suddenly caught Theodred's eyes, and stepped forward, when beckoned, to confer with him in a murmur. Theodred's eyes flickered over at us as he listened. Finished, the man slipped away back among his fellows. 

"I see," he said then. "A wizard known himself to have dealings with Saruman, his companion utterly unknown to us...comes to us speaking of war upon our doorstep. And he would have us do..._what?_" His tone was more conversational than grim, even though he stared hard at us both, as if by sheer dint of will he might uncover our true meaning. The Rohhirrim around us shifted, a murmur running through their ranks. 

I barely resisted the urge to put my face in my hands. It had been a _very_ long couple of days. And we really, _really_ did _not_ have the time for this. 

And so, I broke my own 'keep the trap shut' rule. And it'd been working _so_ well for me, too. 

"My...Lord," I said, bringing his attention back upon me, then paused, swallowing hard, wondering if I had the words eloquent enough to convince them. 

Well...the 'truth' would just have to do, then. Wouldn't it? 

"My...companion...sought to learn Saruman's secrets. At the request of the White Council." At that name, Theodred's face shifted slightly, though he made no comment. "I...have also been helping them...as a Seer. Of sorts." I pulled the cloak Radagast had given me a little more tightly around myself. "We don't ask you to simply believe us...but at least send someone to check. Confirm what we have reported." 

When Theodred answered nothing immediately, I added: "Every hour brings them closer to your home. Thousands. As many as...ten?" I recalled, glancing aside at Radagast, who'd watched my sally with equanimity (which I hoped meant he reckoned I was on the right track). He nodded. "Ten thousands," I repeated. 

Someone nearby _snorted_, perhaps involuntarily. "Im_possible_." 

"Peace," Theodred said then, quietly but quickly, and whoever it was immediately shut up. The Mark's heir regarded us. "You say that Saruman the White, ever our ally-" here the sarcasm was evident in his voice -"in fact now launches, with no challenge, no parley, an attack of an unheard-of size. And that our doom is now upon us-" Another man nearby opened his mouth as if to comment, but Theodred's suddenly upraised hand cut him off. "-impossible to credit, and yet....why do I credit it?" 

"Because you know the truth, the reality beyond Grima Wormtongue's comforting lies." Radagast's words were quiet now that he spoke for himself, no longer a carrier of Saruman's tidings, nor an over-acting spy in his demesne. 

At this, a murmur and a shifting ran through the ranks of Rohhirrim again, but this time Theodred did not protest the surprised reaction. 

"So...he _does_. Lie." Theodred's gaze shifted between Radagast and me. "And you either tell sooth as you have said...or seek to mislead me in some other direction." Coming to a decision, he straightened more fully. "We will see this army of yours. Come! The moon is full tonight - we ride!" 

The effect was instant, as if a hunter's _huzzah_, and the assembled riders began to move, dispersing quickly out the longhouse's exit. But even as they began to stream out, a faint horn call froze the tableau. A long blast, then two short. 

I gawped, but Radagasts' face took on an even grimmer cast as the host leapt into action again, an extra edge of urgency in their movements. Theodred pointed. "Aelfwhed and Morthren- watch them." The Mark's heir then spared us a last glance before striding quickly after his men, those clustered around the table following him protectively. "If you betray us this night, bring this attack upon us - no wizard's tricks will avail you." He gave an extra-meaningful look at the two grim-faced riders left to guard us as they blocked our own exit, weapons drawn. 

Then he was gone, with Radagast staring after him, and me blinking at the sudden turn-around. 

Attack? Saruman's army? Had they followed us here somehow? 

"No - raiders," Radagast murmured for me alone to hear. 

Raiders. Raiders?! I almost groaned at the exquisitely bad timing of it all. We didn't have time to be attacked by _raiders_ - we had a gigantic army of psychopaths to warn the countryside about! 

The raiders, however, had _all_ the time in the world to be attacking _us_. Which we noted as the thudding of hoofbeats outside intermingled with shouts and cries and screams, the _clang_ of metal on metal...and as a short cry of pain was heard just outside the longhouse's entrance, and several large shaggy shapes suddenly loomed in the doorway. 

Whoever they were... they'd just found us. 

**~End Part 21~**


	22. Part 22

A.N.: Um, yeah... Still alive out here. Just in Grad school. kthanxbai 

P.S.: I'm, like, **hopelessly** behind on thanking all you kind reveiwers, aren't I? _Looks at list sheepishly._ Oh, geeze. Ok. _Takes deep breath_

Thank you all, for commenting on my story. Glad you've been liking it. In particular, most recently, thanks to: Writer From Rivendell, Aranel3, KnowInsight, ladyrowan2, RogueTigress, Riini, Munsje, mpfan, Melissa, Blue Kat, Blue Kat, technetium, Phoenix Flight, Melime, Pallas Athena1, Hobbitfeatures, & Isthia for your comments and interest. _falls over_ whew. Ok. On with the story. 

**The Nightmare - Part 22**

by Bex 

I turned away and glanced around for something, anything, with which I could defend myself. I had no skill with arms, but it rankled, the thought of being utterly defenceless while being rushed by raiders. 

Nothing but a few wooden cups and a ceramic jug on the table before the fireplace caught my eye. Even in those few moments, I turned, glanced, then swung back to see that our two guards had dispatched two of the raiding party in a brief burst of violence. 

I _blinked_ as I realized it was already over. That must have been that hoarse _cough_ I'd heard as I'd pivoted, I thought numbly. A man's life bleeding out onto the ground. Just as simple as that. Two forms huddled on the ground, one of them right on the threshold. Both stabbed or gutted, bleeding, twitching. Dead or close to. 

I took a step closer. The furs...they wore rough clothing; wool and leather and fur in a hodge-podge of colors and textures, these raiders. The fur mostly hid the blood and whatever else was there. That was good thing, I decided. 

I took another step closer. 

"Sarah." 

I turned my head to see Radagast staring in my direction and caught the question behind his tone. 

_Shouldn't you be doing wizardly things out there with the good guys?_ I thought inwardly. I said: "I'm all right. Why don't you...?" 

I glanced around again, my gaze falling upon an outflung arm and I paused, staring. 

Without seeing my wizard companion, I felt him approaching. So concerned with his charge. One of the guards reached down, grabbed one of the dead raiders by the feet, and hauled him outside. _Taking out the garbage_, I thought, suppressing an unseemly burble of hilarity. 

"Sarah." This time there was a firmness behind the tone. A lookatme andletmeknowyou'reallright insistence. I turned and let him see me; was caught for the briefest of moments in his eyes. 

"Go on," I said. "I'll be all right." 

Radagast looked at me a few moments longer, then nodded. "I will be back soon," he said. "They will guard you with their lives." Then he was gone, striding to the door and through, after pausing for a few murmured words with the guards. They either believed him an ally now or he'd mojo'ed them; I cared not. 

I sat down heavily on one of the benches. This is exactly the reason I didn't want to leave Imladris, I thought. I'm useless when it comes to this sort of thing. Useless. A burden. Something to guard. 

"Mi'lady?" 

I glanced up. One of the guards, fresh-faced and hale, and sporting a few new flecks of blood on his tunic - must've been a bugger to get out on laundry day, part of my mind noted idly - was approaching. "You are well?" 

I looked at him tiredly. "I'm all right. Thank you." When he did not immediately go away, I struggled for small talk. "I'm sorry; you are...?" 

"Aelfwhed, my Lady." 

"Sorry. Aelfwhed...thank you." 

His eyes narrowed just a fraction, a momentary glance of puzzlement as he worked out my meaning, that I was thanking him for merely doing his duty. Then he nodded, in a you'rewelcomebutI'mjustdoingmydutytomyleigelord sort of way and stride back to the door to confer with his comrade. 

_I don't want to be guarded by someone else's life. I want-_

Between one heart-beat and the next, horror crept into my head, an icy-cold foreknowledge: _Something Bad is coming._

I had slumped down, but now my head jerked up. _Something very**very** Bad is coming. Got to get out, go, run, **NOW!**_

Yes. I stood, glanced over at my two guards/protectors where they stood frozen in the doorway, staring out and up. They felt it, too. 

They couldn't protect me. Not from this. 

I crept up behind them, legs heavy with dread, coiled in anticipation. One of them - the other one, Morthren - must have heard my steps; he turned suddenly, his face a pale, stern mask, tight-lipped and narrow-eyed. 

"We have to go," I said, my voice a faint whisper. "Run. Now." 

He took in my words, then took a deep breath. "A Rider of the Mark..." he replied then, voice almost as subdued as my own, "does not run from our foes." Visibly mastering himself. 

I probably ought to have been impressed. On some level I suppose I was. But at that moment I merely growled inwardly in frustration and sidled forward, hoping to just slip around him and out the door. 

He stepped to block me, and I darted to one side. Outside, Aelfwhed turned to see what was happening behind him. 

"Let me out!" I hissed. The feeling of imminent Badness wasn't fading, only growing stronger, and my sense of urgency rose with it. I moved forward, hoping he'd give way, but he held his ground. 

"We need to go," I said, hoarse. "Please." 

The expression on his face shifted. Starting to believe me, perhaps. I was the Seer, after all...right? 

I was just someone out of place, out of time, currently goaded onward by vague, growing terror. 

_They_ didn't need to know that, though. 

I didn't have time to wait for him to decide to let me out. As Morthren shifted his position slightly, glancing over at his comrade as he considered my plea, I saw my opening - and took it. Leaping forward, I shoved violently by my guard as he stumbled to the side. 

Then I ran.

**End Part 22**


	23. Part 23

Disclaimer - The Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien owns Middle Earth and all therein. No breach of copyright is intended by the following fanfiction, and no profit will ever be made from it.

Wow...umm...it's been a while. Would you believe...a 6 year writer's block?

No?

But I'm back.

Thanks to the lovely reviewers for chapter 22: Hermonine, tigerlilly396, Kiricat, FaithAngel712, Jade Elf, Moriwen, Crecy, Blue Kat, Hobbitfeatures, Writer from Rivendell, Isthia, Ainu Laire, lucylambchop, Sunsetcheetah, Aranel-DiSonne.

The Nightmare

**Part 23**

**By Bex**

I ran mindlessly, heedless of the ragged shouts behind me as I peeled away from the longhouse, darting along the lane and heading for the edge of the village and the prairie beyond.

I wasn't an especially fast runner, but I had the dubious advantage of being less weighted down by armor and helm, and didn't have to retain my hold on weapons, so I kept far enough ahead of my guards to avoid being caught immediately.

Plus terror did literally lend wings to my heels.

As I flashed past one of the homes near the village's edge, a voice different from my guards' called out to me. "Oi! In here!"

I almost paid it no heed, but did send a startled glance its way, as I rushed by, for the voice had been female… and that was my undoing.

My foot caught on something, and I tripped-

I got distracted, and my foot caught on a rock jutting out of the ground, and I pitched forward-

Hitting the ground _hurt_ – I actually rolled over, the breath dashed out of me.

The terror still gripped me, and as I heard the pounding of feet – three people, now, and I still had that breathless feeling, like when you get punched right in the diaphragm, so you try to breathe but it doesn't work right away, then I got in that first _whoop_ of air, and tears sprang into my eyes, and then I realized I felt the Danger from _**two**_ directions-

-from above and coming at us from outside the village.

And I got enough air into me and said a very Bad word that they probably hadn't ever heard in Middle Earth before.

"Milady!"

Aelfwhed and Morthren had arrived. I saw them looming above me, through the distortion of my angry tears. Despite my idiotic stunt and graceless tumble, one of them – Aelfwhen by the tunic color – gently if firmly helped me to my feet.

The third person was a woman, brown-hair pulled back in a messy bun, her gown's skirt pulled up somewhat and somehow tied to allow her enough freedom to run. Sword in hand, she stared at us, her pale face pinched in a bemused determination mostly mirrored by my guards.

"Mayda! The children?"

"Agyfen's. We guard."

Morthren nodded once.

Mayda glanced at me, a line between her brows. She didn't even have to ask.

"She is…a… seer. Said great danger approaches."

Mayda's expression changed subtly. "The raiders," she said, not quite a question.

"Not that!" I snapped. "Something else! Something worse!" And I still 'felt' it, but nothing was happening at that very moment, and I felt like such a fool, and-

She stood before us, staring at me in confusion, but sword in hand, running toward the danger, defending her home, everything I wasn't-

"I'm sorry…" I whispered, slumping against Aelfwhen, who was kindly holding me up but also making sure I didn't race off again, as the manic energy drained out of me. "I'm sorry…"

Then Morthren let out a wordless, short shout and pointed. Out beyond the edge of the village, something was coming toward us through the waist-high grasses. Stalking toward us.

I was frozen with a sudden horror. _**This**_ was the source of part of the terror. But I blinked with confusion. At first glance, it looked like a small pony-?

A moment later, my mind caught up with what I was really seeing.

It was a wolf. A huge wolf that was as _large_ as a pony – easily five feet high at its shoulder. And it was somehow, impossibly, exuding an amazing amount of menace.

Menace and intelligence. Part of my mind got caught up in a disbelieving thought of _Well wolves aren't like that_ while the other part reminded myself that this was Arda – wolves could totally be like that, remember? – while the third part merely gibbered in despair.

The gigantic warg –for that was what it was, I realized - paused, opened its mouth in a slavering grin, tipped its head back, and I swear it _laughed_.

Then it stared at us all where we stood frozen in shock, savoring the looks on our faces, before it leapt straight at us.

Our group went in three directions. If I hadn't been in shock and then in mid-air, I'd have wanted to admire the inadvertent choreography. Aelfwhen went to the right, with me. Morthren leapt forward to meet the warg, his sword clearing its scabbard and swinging up in a deadly arc. Mayda darted to the side, but her own sword came up and around even as she did so, waiting to follow-up Morthren's first strike.

Aelfwhen and I cleared the jumble. In the space of seconds he fiercely took hold of my right hand in an almost-crushing grip, wrenched me around, and we **_ran_**. I couldn't have pulled away or gone anywhere else except in the direction of forward even if I'd tried. We were heading for the closest shelter, a barn nearby where we had more of a chance to hold off whoever came after us first, warg or raider.

We could faintly hear the sound of shouts and the dull sound of metal on metal from the other side of the village. If the villagers and Theodred's men didn't hold them off…they'd be here soon enough.

I couldn't see; had no time to even look behind me, but I suddenly heard a ragged female scream and winced- _No no **no**_

We slammed against the wooden door, about to tumble inside, when something slammed into **us** from behind, tossing us aside.

I didn't even make sense of the jumbled visual flashes; I just fell, and lay, semi-stunned, then heard a groan. Aelfwhen, or me?

I was laying facedown. I shifted a little, attempting to roll over. When I did, enough to be able to see, I could have screamed in pure shock.

The warg was right in front of me, about a foot from me, staring at me.

I didn't even get a chance to glance around to see what had become of my companions; caught in his dark gaze, I simply stared.

And stared. And stared.

My mouth dropped open. I gasped, then again, a weird sort of hyperventilation. I became dimly aware that I was…keening. A strange, almost breathless protest.

"Get out…ge'out…out…out…outoutout…"

The creature's grin widened. And then it spoke to me. I think it was the mind-speak so many did there. At least, that's how I remember it. Not regular 'speech', just me somehow getting the meaning.

_You feel…**different**. Who are you?_

I stared, unable to look away.

The beast's 'smile' widened. _Oh, this will be **fun**_.

It suddenly leapt away from me. Released, I scrambled frantically and dazedly around, seeking to get to my feet and go in the opposite direction of wherever it was now.

I froze. It was several yards away, learning over a slowly moving, dazed Aelfwhen. But staring right over at me. I was trapped in its gaze again. _I ask you again – who **are** you?_

I merely stared, and the warg's head dipped down and its teeth flashed-

A hoarse, strangled scream erupted from the fallen warrior, and warg's head rose, its teeth stained crimson.

A strangled scream of my own rose. _**"NOBODY!"**_

_Liar_.

And the shaggy head dipped down again.

My shriek mingled with the sudden _clap_ of power that the sent the warg scrambling away, with a startled snarl, from Aelfwhen.

_Istar Fool! You dare interfere?_

"Get thee gone, creature. Or despite my charge, I will end you."

I cringed back, both forces poised before me equally perilous. The warg, broad, high back arched in outrage, a vicious, curdling snarl erupting from its throat, the brown-robed man standing before him, staff in hand, radiating a quiet, implacable confidence…

_My Master will remember this insult, Istar...and repay you in full…after he is done with Mithrandir. _

"I will await my turn, then, as needs I must."

I blinked. The warg turned a last, malice-filled glance my way, and I flinched. _You are important to this wizard. Oh yes, you are somebody indeed._

And then he sprang away, twisting and turning in a mad dash away, vanishing within moments into the sea of grass.

I slumped forward, wishing I could just faint and escape all of this for a time.

But I couldn't. Not this time.

So I looked up, catching Radagast's gaze. Little energy left after today's shocks, but enough to say, "Help them…please."

From behind from the village outbuildings came running Theodred and a handful of his men, in time to see the aftermath of our own private little battle. Three prone bodies, one slumped, one striding over to the most grievously wounded. Barked orders and the others hurried over and performed triage.

"Mi'Lord, they live still."

I hung my head in immense relief. My cowardice, my flight that had put all three right in harm's way, hadn't cost them their lives. Yet.

I looked up again and the First Marshall of the Mark was staring down at me. "What occurred here?"

I glanced away. "Warg," I said succinctly. I glanced back up and he was staring at me expectantly. Evidently that wasn't enough of a sitrep for him. "Warg attack. Big one. Biggest one I've ever seen. Radagast drove it away."

Theodred gazed at me a few moments longer, then nodded. Leaning down, he offered a hand. I numbly took it and he lifted me to my feet.

"Thank you. Mi'Lord." Better too polite than not. "The raiders?"

"Dundlanders. It was a small party – they have been routed. Two were left alive to flee; my men are in pursuit. They will not get far."

I nodded. I saw Theodred glancing over at Radagast who had looked up as we both finished our explanations. "Coincidence?" he asked the Istar.

"Possibly. Probably not."

Theodred nodded, resigned. "One beast did as much damage here as all the Dunlanders." He raised his voice. "The four most wounded will remain here and recover. The rest of us must ride for Edoras today. We will depart when the sun has reached Ormod." All eyes followed his pointing finger to the right-most mountain peak. From my perspective, the sun was about an inch above the edge of the peak, shadows slanting across the lower mountain slopes. About an hour, then.

This was going to be one hell of a ride.

**To Be Continued…**


End file.
